


Defying Logic

by Maejones



Category: Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Abduction, Aliens, Angst, BAMF Molly, F/M, Humor, I Don't Even Know, Imprisonment, Intimidation, Khan is not exactly a good guy, Love Story, Mystery, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Power Imbalance, Red Matter, Smut, Star Trek References, Star Trek: Into Darkness, Time Travel, a fish out of water, did i mention smut, khanolly, sort of sherlolly related, space travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-07-28 05:59:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7627792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maejones/pseuds/Maejones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, let's get to it - Molly Hooper awakes in the future to find herself aboard a space ship with a frighteningly grumpy companion named Khan Noonien Singh. To him, she's an inferior, antiquated being but valuable for what's locked away in her cellular structure. She's done the one thing he longs to do, cross time and survive, but will he want to do that once he spends a bit of time with our little pathologist? We will see . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eyes Opened

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MizJoely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/gifts), [Raelynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raelynn/gifts).



> I honestly don't think I've read a Khanolly fic yet. I know MJ does this and she is the master so forgive me if this comes off as a hash. There is a high probability that I am telling a story that has been done already but in my defense, there are never enough stories that start with the understanding that eventual smut between two antagonistic characters is a universal constant.

     Molly awoke to the strangest sensation. Every inch of her flesh felt as if it were encased in a kind of unyielding molasses. She tried to move, to wiggle her fingers but they met resistance. Before she could sort out what was going on, however, pain lanced through her skull like a thunderclap. She hissed and her chest shuddered as she inhaled. She tried to open her eyes but her lids felt inexplicably heavy. She redoubled her efforts. One by one, she managed to pry them apart to squint into a kind of blurry existence.

     Everything was very bright and white. She felt very much like she was in a hospital bed yet without a gravitational reference. Her stomach floated within her gut. She could not tell if she was lying down or suspended upright. She focused on what looked like illuminated tiles directly in front of her. Then, something flashing and noisy was waved in her face just off the tip of her noise. She heard the strange melodic beeps and boops of electronic jangling. A few seconds later, a deep voice rattled her ear drums.

     “What century are you from?”

     Molly held her breath a moment. That voice. It vibrated every cell in her body. She tried to glance to its source but she could not move her head. She tried to tense and struggle against her invisible bindings to no avail. In her frustration, a tear slipped from her eye.

     “I-I  . . . wh-where am I?”

     “Answer the question," the voice repeated caustically, "what. Century. Are. You. From?”

     The impossibly rich baritone voice snapped at her in clipped tones. She swallowed. She was so confused, and scared, and . . . confused. She desperately searched her mind for her last memory. She had been walking home from a late shift at Bart’s . . . then nothing.

     “I . . . I do not understand. You want to know the year? It is 2016.”

     Molly heard something like a lid snapping shut.

     “Mm, I thought you might be older. I did not realize you were _that_ old.”

      For some reason, the derision in his tone made the hairs bristle up the back of her neck.

     “Listen, y-you . . . you slime! You slug! I am only thirty-five years old. I am not old.”

     “Wrong,” the voice barked.

     Molly felt a fizz along her nerve endings and the snapping of what felt like elastic against her skin. In less than a heartbeat, she was weightless no more. A slam of gravity lurched her stomach and she fell two inches to a hard surface. She laid there stunned a moment, then scrambled to levitate herself into a sitting position. However, when she swung her legs sideways, she encountered an edge and threw herself off-balance. Again, her tummy roiled as gravity made its claim. However, she did not fall far. Just as she tipped over the precipice, steely arms interrupted her descent.

     “Ridiculous creature!”

     Molly clutched onto the large forearms of her savior. Muscles rippled beneath her fingers covered by a strange, smooth fabric. She stared dumfounded at a plastic-like surface before her eyes flew up to the face of the man holding her. Her knees wobbled as she steadied her bare feet on the unnatural floor.

 _“Oh, Lord!”_  She thought.

     Her mouth fell open at the sight of him. He was, for lack of a better word, perfection.  The first thing impressed upon her psyche was the contrast of his ivory skin against his inky, black locks which fell over his forehead. Then her vision focused on an exaggerated, angular face with extremely high cheekbones and generous lips that could have been stenciled above his strong chin. Her breath seized in her lungs when they finally made eye contact. Pale blue-green eyes the colour of a shallow mountain lake regarded her under slashing black brows with an intensity like nothing she had ever seen.

     “I . . . I am not old,” she whispered.

     Her face flamed almost the moment the words left her mouth. She had no idea when or where she was, but somehow, her first instinct was to defend her vanity to this beautiful man. She felt ridiculous. His mesmerizing lips began to move.

     “You are two hundred and eighty-four Earth years old, to be exact, and that is even old by Vulcan standards.”

      Her face contorted in a frown. “Two hundred and . . . don’t be ridiculous! What does that make you? You are clearly older than me.”

     “I am one hundred and seventy-two but I was frozen for about one hundred and thirty of those years.”

     Molly shook her head. She must be speaking to a crazy man. She felt her stomach twist. He was a crazy, unsettlingly attractive man, though. She almost dissolved when his eyes flicked over her face and lingered on her mouth. A sort of grimace flitted through his features. Again, her vanity was prickled. He seemed to find her unattractive.

     “Please,” she whispered, “What is going on? Where am I?”

     His lips twitched. “You mean, when? When are you?”

     “Whatever!”

     His features tightened again momentarily and fear skittered up her spine. There was something restrained in his manner, as if his flesh imprisoned a beast. She felt his hands tighten on her waist and then, as if she were no heavier than an empty box, he unceremoniously deposited her back up on the strange slab. Once she was settled, he folded his arms behind his back and paced away.

     For a moment, she gathered herself and took stock of her situation. There wasn’t too much to glean from the monotone white room they were in. It was just as if they were encased in a large, plastic bubble without doors or windows. She wore a very simple, fitted smock and pants in the same unfamiliar, thin spongy material as her companion except where his outfit was as black as his hair, hers was a muted creamy grey. She absentmindedly reached up because something felt off and realized her once long brown hair was considerably shortened. Its ends just swished over her shoulders. She pulled some forward for inspection and gasped. The locks between her fingers were red, and not just ginger, but the colour of a radioactive cherry that had just ripened.

     “What the hell-”

     The man glanced sideways through slits. He stood a meter or so away from her then, near a wall that just curved up over his head.

     “Ah, yes, your hair. I suspect that is a byproduct of your red matter interaction. It is shorter than you remember because I cut off several inches for experimentation.”

     Molly began to shake. Nothing made sense. Her blood rushed through her system and whooshed in her ears. She would swear she was having a nightmare except for the visceral existence of her companion. She just did not think it would be possible for her imagination, even at its most fervid, to create such a man.

     “You are confused,” he murmured as his head turned towards her and bobbed, “yes, this would be taxing for a mind as antiquated as yours but I will try to make it simple. The year is 2265. I purchased you in a market on Halwin, a planet about 400 light-years from Earth because the flesh-trader who had you in suspended animation had no idea how much a relic like you is really worth. How you ended up this far flung out in space and time, I am not certain except that there is a trace signature of red-matter interference in your RNA. You are aboard my ship, well, not my ship. I stole it but this does not concern you-”

      “S-Space, red matter, suspended animation?” Molly stuttered. “Y-You are cracked”

     His head tilted sideways and he narrowed his eyes. “Cracked? Cracked? What is this?”

    “You are looney! Mad!”

     His lips set together and rage appeared to burn within his pupils. He stomped back to her pedestal and slammed his hands either side of her hips. His lips curled in disgust.

     “Mad? Your archaic mind cannot even begin to comprehend how inferior your sanity is when compared to mine.”

     Molly shrank back. “I-I am s-sorry. Please, none of this makes any sense. The last thing I remember is walking home from work and now I am here with you. I do not know you, Mr.-”

     “Khan,” he spit.

     “Mr. Khan, what you say . . . it defies logic . . .”

     He pushed away from the slab and swept his hand at the wall. As he did, the entirety of the wall appeared to sweep up like a computer tab to reveal a fantastically bright blue and green orb with a murky atmosphere set against a backdrop of an endless darkness littered with bright points of light.

     “What is your name, human?” He demanded in a low tone.

     “M-Molly,” she blubbered as she gaped at the spectacle outside the window, “Molly Hooper. Oh my God . . .”

     “Well, Molly Hooper, this is a bitter truth to which I am well acquainted so heed my advice. You are forever separated from the life you once had; you must expand your ideas of logic or I guarantee . . . you will not survive what's to come.”


	2. Feeling Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damn, but I can't drop my plotting when it bites my arse. There is actually a story here folks, but I promise, smut is coming.

     Molly shot up from her bed with a cry. She panted in the dark for several moments. A trickle of sweat ran down her temple. Her dreams had been filled with screaming and pain, the feeling of being ripped apart and blood, so much blood. Her vision swam with it.

     “Lights,” she wheezed.

     An instant later, lights flickered, waned and then illuminated her cell (at least she had come to think of it as a prison cell in the last several days). She rubbed her face. She went to throw her blanket off her body but her fingers sifted through dust instead. When she looked down, she found she was naked and lying in a pile of ash as if she had crawled into a fire pit.

     Then she heard thumping on the entry panel to her room. It tried to slide open but made a godawful squeal, jerked and became stuck part way up. She heard a baritone voice curse and she panicked. She jumped off the bed and smelled something burning. When she looked down, the floor appeared to be melting beneath her feet.

     “What the hell-?”

     Yet, as odd as that was, she was still more concerned with the captain of this particular ship seeing her naked. She whirled around but could not find anything in which to cover herself. To her horror, a pair of hands grabbed the bottom of the door and forced it upwards. She plastered herself against the wall and covered herself as best as she could with her hands. Khan ducked under the door and then threw up his hands as if he’d encountered an inferno.

     “Fffff . . . hell!” 

     She blinked at him. He appeared wavy as if he were a distant mirage. He reached a hand towards her and then drew it back with a hiss. Blisters marred the flesh on his knuckles.

     “Computer, shower, full stream!” He commanded gruffly. “Water temperature fifteen degrees centigrade.”

     A panel slid up to Molly’s left. Her small cubicle shower sputtered to life. Khan waved emphatically at the minute space.

     “Get in before you burn a hole through the side of my ship!”

     Molly inched sideways, confused yet mortified, and then ducked under the punishing spray. A plume of steam immediately rose up from her skin even though the water felt like ice. In fact, she thought she heard the sound of sizzling akin to water boiling off from a pan. Several seconds later, Khan appeared with a device she had previously learned was a, ‘tricorder’.

     “Damn, but you are hot,” he mumbled outside the shower as he scanned it up and down. “What happened? What did you do? We were two degrees from a hull breach.”

       She could not answer any of his questions. She felt a tad feverish but that was all.

      “I-I do not know. . . I had a bad dream.”

     She wanted to cry. It had been three days from when she had awakened and she had really not learned much more about her situation. Her passing of the time had consisted of ingesting small, bland meals slid under the door, watching stars streak by the on-demand window and sleeping on a narrow cot. A hand reached into the shower suddenly. She smacked it away. Khan growled and snatched her wrist. He yanked her towards him. 

     “Wh-What gives you the right to manhandle me?” She spit through the water pouring over her head and down her body.

     He urged her just forward out of the direct stream.  A bit of cool air combined with water dripping from her nipples caused them to tighten. Goose bumps sprang up all over the front of her body. The soot from the scorched blankets washed away down the drain. She must have cooled considerably because he could tolerate her proximity again.

     “I bought you. I own you. You are mine,” his voice menaced.

     Molly’s stomach flip-flopped. She resented the fact that while she hated this man, she additionally found herself bizarrely attracted to him in a way that was primal and raw. Somehow, being owned by him didn't elicit the kind of repulsion it should have.

     “Stop,” he muttered and raised his tricorder again, “your temperature is spiking again.”

     The device blared a repetitive warning from where he held it just in front of her breasts. He frowned down at it temporarily then raised his speculative gaze. A crease formed between his brows while he studied her face.

     “You are aroused?” He murmured. “By what? By me?”

     Molly wanted to die. She cast her eyes to the basin and tried to draw back but the pressure of his grip on her arm increased.

     “It . . . it is just an involuntary response to the sh-shower and being n-naked,” she mumbled.

     “Mm hmm,” he returned, “computer, shower off.”

     The spray at her back cut off. She felt the tap of the tricorder under her chin and was compelled to look up at him.

     “You humans and your latent anxieties,” his voice did things to her, even full of derision, “why the emotional turmoil over such an admission? It is not as if your reaction is uncommon. I have not yet met a female member of any species who does not wish to copulate with me.”

     She glowered at him as her skin flared. “Why, you arrogant prick- ow!”

     Khan threw aside his tricorder and jabbed her with something that felt like a needle in the side of her thigh. As if she was suddenly swamped, a tide swept over her body and her temperature rapidly decreased. She peered down at a small cylinder in his hand.

     “Wh-What was that?”

     His chin lifted. “A suppressive agent. You are infected, for lack of a better word, Molly Hooper from Earth, and heightened emotions appear to aggrivate the source of your infection. You were a medical doctor during your time there, am I correct?”

     “Yes.”

     “So you are familiar with the science of DNA and its overriding RNA?”

     “Y-Yes,” her teeth chattered.

     Khan’s brow furrowed as his eyes flicked down her body. Then, he released her and marched to the wall.

     “Computer, towel.”

     A disembodied, electronic voice replied. _“This room’s replicator is offline due to heat damage. The nearest working replicator is located on level two in the commons. Would you like me to have a towel reproduced there?”_   

     Khan cursed. “No.”

     In a flourish, he removed his tunic and threw it in her direction. She quickly pulled the black garment over her head. Thankfully, it hung just past her bum. She swallowed as she appraised Khan’s hulking, bare chest. He was ridiculously fit. She could see the differentiation of every muscle in his shoulders with creases between each mass of corded flesh. She completely forgot that he was about to explain something very important. She was captivated by the sight and heady, male scent of him while being enveloped in his shirt.

     Once again, his features took on a frown. His chest heaved up and down with each breath as his focus constricted. He seemed to be working something out about her appearance, but what, she could not say. He folded his arms and widened his stance as if steeling himself against a confrontation.

     “The Vulcans, a race of uniquely intelligent beings, found a way to produce a highly unstable form of matter they call red matter. When ignited, it collapses at an exponential rate into a singularity which has proven to have the ability to transport people and objects through time. However, the Vulcan home world was destroyed several years back and later during a battle, what was thought was the last of the red matter was also destroyed. However, I have been searching the ends of the universe in hopes that someone was in possession of this substance. Then, recently I found and followed a weak signature that led to you. By all metrics, you should have been obliterated by this material but somehow it has substituted itself in your RNA and began to replicate.”

     Molly drew in a quivering breath. “Replicate? It is alive then?”

     His lips poked out a moment, then his head went sideways.

     “No, no, but you are right in your thinking. It is behaving as if it were alive. I did some experimentation on your hair but the red matter rapidly decays when separated from your particular chemistry. While you were in stasis, I also tried to extract some directly from your blood stream but I nearly ignited the sample right then and there,” Khan exhaled a frustrated sigh. “I drained half my anti-matter stores to neutralize the threat.”

     Molly’s skin prickled. He had experimented on her? The stuff in her blood had nearly exploded? She felt very cold all of a sudden. Her whole form began to shake.

     “Why . . . why aren’t I dead?” She whispered.

     His nose wrinkled. “I do not know and I definitely do not appreciate not knowing. Suffice to say, it seems to . . . _like_ you, but it’s still not stable. You are a walking time-bomb.”

     She rubbed her arms. She was freezing, actually.

     “What did you give me?”

      He looked away a moment. His lip curled. She would say he appeared guilty but she did not think a man of such cold indifference to her predicament could feel that way.

     “I injected you with a solution of anti-matter which by all means, should also kill you, but the red matter . . . is . . . protective? It reacts by sacrificing itself to counteract the anti-matter and then kind of goes to sleep for a time. I was dosing you every three days but I will increase it to daily. I can’t have you destroying my ship.”

     “Oh."

     Molly thought she might faint. Her limbs were beginning to go numb from the drop in her core temperature. What he said made perfect sense and no sense at all and she was too tired to question anything further. Her shaking had increased beyond her control.

     “C-Can . . .  can I have a blanket?” Her voice was small. “I am very c-c-cold.”

       Khan crossed the room just as she started to collapse. He scooped her up into his arms and cradled her against his chest. He stiffened when she pressed her cheek to his pectorals and spread her fingers over his torso but she was desperate for warmth and his skin was like an infrared lamp. She snuggled closer with clacking teeth. She did not care in that moment if he was the devil himself (even though she suspected he might just be).

      “I do not understand your existence, pathetic little human,” he muttered as much to himself as anything as he carried her towards the exit, “how can you be so weak yet so strong at the same time?”

       She closed her eyes and struggled to respond. “Perhaps, perhaps, it is that I have had practice with . . . overbearing monsters . . . such as . . . yourself.”

       Molly thought she heard a snort of laughter but decided she must be mistaken as she slipped into unconsciousness.


	3. Shoulders Squared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, it's coming but these two need to loathe one another first (a bit) :)

       Molly rubbed her temples. She was numb after a day of trying to catch up with history. She had discovered that two-hundred and forty-nine years ago, the disappearance of Molly Hooper was but a footnote accompanying a story in the Guardian about an entirely unrelated family having gone missing on the same day. It was with an odd, cold feeling that she read about herself, 'a single, Caucasian female in her mid-thirties with no next of kin.' As if that generic description was the sum of her existence.

     She sniffed back melancholy and waved the phantom paper away. The console in the desk that projected the image of the paper retracted and rejoined the unit's surface. She marveled as she ran her finger over its disappearing seam. The technological advances on Khan's ship never ceased to amaze her from the replicators that could produce any kind of meal or consumable one could imagine to the closet that could form itself into a shower or toilet or sauna as needed. Khan had sequestered her in this larger living space after her debacle with her quarters. It was a significant improvement, but still a prison. She sighed.

     Her thoughts returned to the article. She wondered if the description of her solitary life was accurate. Had she been just a lonely, single girl? Her memories were not what they should be on this matter; they were fractured and incomplete. She had thought she had a clear impression of her life, her work and all the best moments therein, but when she strained to remember anything that might have caused her angst or misery, she hit a wall. It was as if someone had gone in and edited her memory banks to leave behind only a PG narrative.

      The worst part was the feeling that something important was missing. Every once in a while, she had this tweak of familiarity about Khan that made her feel a bit bereft, as if he reminded her of someone. Yet, in the place of what should have been this person's face was but a blurry impression of someone whose features became increasingly obscured as time progressed. In fact, trying to remember her past life was like chasing a fading dream down a memory corridor with lights stationed in ever-larger intervals.

     Molly heard the tell-tale swish of a door opening and spun in her chair. She locked eyes with Khan as he strode purposefully into her quarters. As usual, he scowled. She figured it was not so much in anger, but perpetual annoyance. How could one go through life so cynical though, she wondered? She swallowed. It was incredibly difficult to maintain eye contact with the man, and she should want nothing to do with him, but she could not tear her eyes away from his lithe form. He was intimidating and gruff and impatient, yet he still elicited excitement in an otherwise dull existence.

     "Good morning or afternoon or whatever it is," she murmured. "Erm, how are you?"

     One brow rose as he stopped, stood over where she was seated and flipped open his tricorder. Then, he suddenly seemed to notice something and clacked it shut. His lips formed the words before he spoke. A wrinkle marred the space between his eyes.

     “What are you wearing?”

    Molly’s lips rounded. She glanced swiftly down to her ensemble. She’d had some fun with the room’s replicator and the ship’s computer and came up with a slim-lined, scoop-neck tunic in a more vibrant cream littered with cherries. Her black bottoms closely resembled yoga pants. She even managed to customize a cute pair of low wedge heels in a crimson. She thought she looked great, especially with her hair curled around her face.

    “Oh, I was bored,” she said flippantly as she raised her feet up to inspect her new shoes, “and I felt like a mental patient in that other getup.”

    His eyes flicked over her outfit, lingering with a confused look at each place she curved. Something twitched in his face.

    “Well, it is not acceptable. Computer, replicate a generic pants suit in her size.”

    Molly jumped up from her seat. “Computer, disregard that command.”

    Khan threw the tricorder down on the desk at her back. His head tilted sideways.

   “This is my ship,” he bit out with a jab of his finger for emphasis, “I give the commands.”

    Molly crossed her arms and steeled her features. She rocked back on her heels but remained upright. She was nervous as shite but she was tired of feeling as if she had no control over her life.

    “Oh, yes, you issue many commands but I am not bound by them. See, your ship has helped me with a bit of research. It turns out, you are not allowed to dictate what I wear among a lot of other things!”

     Khan’s face contorted in fury. His pale blue-green eyes flashed. He stepped back and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked as if he were trying to reign in his temper.

     "I see and how did you determine this?" He waved his hands in a flourish.

     “C-Computer,” Molly cleared her throat, “please inform Mr. Khan about the limits of his authority over my garb.”

     Molly folded her arms more tightly over her chest. For a moment, she thought the ship might not comply but then it spoke.

     _“Molly Hooper is a sentient, intelligent being who has committed no crimes in any historical records. According to the Federation and Starfleet’s adoption of the Universal Intelligent Being’s Inalienable Rights, she is entitled to bodily autonomy which includes wearing the attire of her choice.”_

The large man exhaled noisily. "This ship, I swear!"

     He closed his eyes a moment and then reopened them.

“To hell with the damned Federation,” he clipped in an icy tone, “I am the captain and you will do as I say and . . .  and so will you, Computer!”

     _“ Captain, Federation doctrine is an integral part of my programming. I am bound by this doctrine and cannot execute any commands in contradiction of my prime directives. Furthermore, Molly Hooper is a civilian under your protection but has no obligation to follow any of your commands unless they are directly related to the welfare of this ship and its occupants.”_

Khan wiped a hand down over his face. Molly sucked in her lips and tried to hold her cheeks in to keep from smiling. He looked furious but also a little flummoxed. For several seconds, he regarded her from a few feet away in the center of the living space while he appeared to regain his faculties. Once his breathing resumed an even pace, he lifted his chin. Again, he paced closer.

     “You think you have outwit me?” He said in a menacingly low tone while staring down at her over his nose.

      Molly snorted and covered her mouth. “Nuh, uh!”

     He licked his tongue over his teeth. Then something wicked lit within his eyes. His beautiful lips curved up in a deadly half-grin.

     “Computer, do you recognize this woman’s medical credentials?”

     Molly frowned. She still found it disconcerting that he knew so much about her while she knew virtually nil about him. He was the captain of this space ship, but only by misappropriation of the vessel. So, this meant he was an outlaw of some sort. It made little sense to her that the ship could defend her rights on one hand due to legal technicalities, but then allow itself to be otherwise controlled by a criminal. When she had asked the ship’s computer earlier why it didn’t just fly itself back to its real owners, the ship had responded that such information was classified. Molly shook these thoughts from her head when the computer's voice interrupted her musings.

     “ _Dr. Molly Hooper’s medical knowledge and research was well documented and advanced for her time,”_ the computer responded to Khan’s question, _“Barts and the London School of Medicine is still an accredited institute today and her degree, a lifetime achievement, is valid because she is still alive. Thus, her medical credentials are substantiated.”_

As soon as the computer finished speaking, Molly somehow knew what was coming. She opened her mouth but Khan piped up first.

     “Well, then how very fortunate for us! We lack properly recognized medical staff aboard this ship. Dr. Molly Hooper, you are now a member of my crew. I am assigning you to Sickbay. Congratulations, you have jumped the ranks to Lieutenant Commander and are hereby my Chief Medical Officer,” he flicked at the collar of her tunic before his tone dropped to a deadly rumble, “computer . . . get her a damned uniform.”

     Molly shivered as she looked up into his unfathomably dark pupils. “Wh-What if I refuse the position?”

     Khan pointed a finger towards the ceiling and twitched his brows. “Computer?”

     _“According to Starfleet regulation 4682.01A, a Captain may enlist or draft any recognized medical professionals against his or her wishes if there is an unavailability of assigned staff to oversee care of his crew. You cannot refuse the assignment, Dr. Hooper. You are now under the Captain's command and must follow his orders, including but not limited to wearing the appropriate uniform while on duty."_

Khan’s smile spread. “That.”

     

    


	4. Senses Inflamed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sure, Khan, you're just trying to make a deduction ;)

 

    Molly tried to wrap her head around what had just happened. Khan had assigned her to be his Chief Medical Officer. He informed her that he had a crew but she hadn't met any of them. Were they all _fit_ like him? What would they think of a doctor with skills dated by over two centuries? She rubbed her lips together in rumination. No doubt, she would just be a joke to them all and for what? So he could tell her what to wear? Why was he so determined to control how she dressed, anyway? A shadow shifted above her and she glanced up at the man in question. The room was much too dim for her liking. The atmosphere lent itself to too many mischievous scenarios.

    Her brows drew together. She glowered at Khan and his stupid, plump, beautiful lips that inspired such lascivious thoughts. Her insides were a turmoil. His presence physically affected her in ways she could not fully explain. As of that moment, in fact, she wanted to let out a guttural cry and either slap him or suck onto his face like a squid. Additionally, she had the overwhelming urge to plunge her fingers into his hair and writhe against him like a snake looking to breed. Her breathing became harsh and shallow. She felt like she couldn't expand her lungs enough to get an adequate supply of fresh air. Khan's eyes constricted and he scanned her face. She wondered if he could read her conflicted feelings. He leaned forward and for a split second, she thought he was going to swoop down for a kiss. Then, he reached past her and retrieved something from the desk at her back. She heard the snap of a lid followed by the tell-tale beeps and boops of his tricorder.

    "Your temperature is climbing again," he muttered.

    Her nostrils flared as she pulled in a breath through her nose. Heat was, indeed, flooding through her system. She wasn't sure what fueled that fire more, her anger or her arousal.

    "It's . . . it's nothing," her lids fluttered, "I am just a bit irate at being ordered about."

    Khan squinted and pivoted his head once in disagreement. His blue-green eyes flicked up and down over her face.

    "Just irate?" He half-smirked. "Is not my proximity having an effect on you again? There seems to be a very particular heat signature from your groin region."

    Molly scrunched her toes in her shoes. "Y-You rely too much on that silly device for spurious information."

    His lips tweaked and she heard the tricorder clack closed again. He stuffed it into the pocket of his pants.Then, he stepped closer and chased her back against the desk where she was forced to sit on its smooth surface. One by one, his hands flattened out on the tabletop either side of where she steadied herself until he was hunched over her like a predator sniffing at prey. She felt several breaths move her hair and heated air flare against the flesh of her neck.

    "I do not need a tricorder to determine whether I arouse you or not, little human," he drew in a deep inhalation next to her ear, "you exude your desires like pheromones . . . the scent is musky, hot, moist . . ."  

     Molly's stomach contracted. She tilted her head back for air and desperately sought distraction but his cheek was right there. She need only turn her head and their lips would meet. She flexed her fingers but at their ends encountered his unyielding digits on the desk top.

     "Wh-Why do you keep referring to me as 'human?'" She panted. "Aren't you human?"

    He huffed an exhalation through his nose. "Mm, nooo, I am . . . better than human. Superior."

     "Superior?" She wheezed.

     "In every way."

     She closed her eyes. Warm air from his lungs washed down the front of her chest and between her breasts. Saliva built up in her mouth and she swallowed. She felt as if she were going to fly apart. Her body arched towards him involuntarily when their chests brushed. She thought she heard a low sound from him, a rumble similar to what a male lion might make before large fingers curled into her hair. A light tug urged her to further expose her neck. She complied. Whatever he was doing, she wanted more. 

      _"Oh, God,"_ She thought as she waited.

      After a brief, tortuous delay she felt the caress of his breath again and then two points scraped gently over the sensitized skin of her neck. His canines. She exhaled sharply until her chest hollowed out. His upper and lower teeth dragged together lightly, just pinching a bit of dermis between them. There was no pain, only the press of the individual edges of his teeth. In the next instant, his tongue stroked over the bit of compressed flesh. She quivered. Her sex was inundated with sensation. She couldn't stop the moan that escaped her parted lips. In a wicked little corner of her mind she wanted him to bite her, to claim her like an animal and leave his mark.

     Khan pulled his head back. Her eyes flew open in time to see him lick his lips. He hovered just shy of her mouth. His fingers intertwined with her locks.

    "In addition to your scent, you taste of lust. Tell me I am mistaken about this. I. Dare. You."

    Molly stared up at him unblinkingly. She was mesmerized by the angles and inclines of his unique face. His cheekbones were definitely alien in nature. She had never seen such lines on any human she had ever met. Finally, she wrestled some words into formation with her stubborn tongue. He was mistaken if he thought she was going to shy away from his challenge.

     "I don't know. Only two data points?" She replied huskily. "Surely any valid theorem requires at least three pieces of evidence to rule out the coincidental."

     Khan's lid flickered and there was a hint of surprise in his slanted eyes. He seemed to ponder a moment. He hiked a brow. His hand made a squeaking sound over the composite surface of the desk. The fingers in her hair danced on the back of her neck. Once more, he searched her face.

     "Are you . . . soliciting me for . . . further research?" His voice vibrated her entire being.

     Right then, the computer chose the most horrendous moment to interrupt their exchange.

    _"Captain, according to Starfleet Regulation 437.1 section 23, sexual relations between senior and junior officers is impermissible during assignment unless they were engaged in a relationship prior to their mission."_

Khan tensed. A light seemed to illuminate in the depths of his eyes. He dropped his hand from her hair and pushed himself back from the desk.

     "We . . . we were not going to engage in-" He cursed and paced away. "I am not explaining myself to a damn ship!"

     Some of his hair had fallen forward. He smoothed it back and tugged at the bottom of his tunic. He turned a critical eye to Molly.

     "It is time for your anti-matter dosage. Change into a uniform and meet me in Sickbay in fifteen minutes."

     Molly slid off the desk. She rubbed her arms awkwardly. 

     "I don't know where-"

     Khan waved his hand wildly. "Ask the ship to guide you! It knows everything, apparently."

     With that, he whirled and stalked towards the exit. The door slid open. She stared after Khan's broad, fit shoulders and lower to where his waist tapered to strong hips and a firm posterior. In a flash, he turned and disappeared into the corridor. Once again, she found herself bewildered by another set of inexplicable events. She groaned and slapped a hand to her face. Had she just come on to a man who was essentially an alien, who may or may not have abducted her and was now her boss? 

      _"Oh, Molly Hooper,"_ she chided herself, _"why does this seem just exactly like something you would do?"_


	5. Thought Pondered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, turns out, there are more than two characters aboard this ship

    "Captain?"

     Khan ignored his first mate and continued to stare out into space while drumming his fingers on the arm of the Captain's chair. Stars whizzed by the nose of the Shrike through its main viewport. He did not know why he returned to the bridge in the interim while he waited for his new Chief Medical Officer to meet him in Sickbay. Perhaps it was just that he needed to feel in control of something, _anything_. The diminutive female human known as Molly Hooper set him teetering on his heels every time he tried to plant his feet.

     "Captain?" Jorr repeated.

     Khan slunk further into his seat. He knew his brooding was ridiculous; and it was not as if he could actually blend into the fabric and disappear, but he was not in the mood for queries. His reticence to reply did not put off his second in command, however. Jorr stepped in front of him. Khan sputtered an exasperated sigh when his view was obstructed by his crew member's large frame.

      “What? What is it?”

      The massive Klingon folded his burly forearms. His black tunic stretched across his chest and strained at the seams. Khan huffed a breath through his nose. Why was it that the ship could not replicate a uniform that adequately fit this particular crew member? After all, he might be larger than the average Klingon but he could not be more that one-hundred and fifty kilograms. Khan looked up at the first mate's unusual brown eyes streaked with yellow as they regarded him pensively. Above his intense gaze, his armored brow masked his thoughts and as ever, his machinations were impossible to read. With the way the plates came together and continued as a ridge down the bridge of his nose, his expression registered somewhere between a grimace and a scowl. Then again, Khan wasn’t entirely sure Klingons had a more expansive emotional range than mildly perturbed to supremely aggravated.

      Jorr’s nostrils flared. “Our antimatter stores are running low. I can’t push the warp core past nine and the transporters are acting up. At this rate of depletion, we won’t make it to Frexis, let alone Iiligred.”

     Khan rubbed his temples. Jorr's news was actually not all that revelatory. The Captain had just been conveniently ignoring the precariousness of their situation in the hopes it would somehow resolve itself.

     “We don’t need the transporters,” he grumbled. “What if we shut them down along with everything else non-essential? Would we make it then?"

    Jorr snorted. “What do you mean?  What is considered non-essential? If we shut down the replicators and hygiene systems, Iiligred is still a hard eight days away, even at warp nine. Do I really have to explain the math to you, Captain? We’d starve or worse.”

    Khan growled a curse. Then, he sprang up from his chair and brushed by the immovable Klingon. He paced the space between his seat and the pilot’s chairs and pushed his hair back up and out of his face again.

     “What is our alternative?”

     Jorr lifted his chin. “Why do you waste my time? You know the answer. We either jettison your, hmmph, _cargo_ or set a course for Jevek on the edge of Gorn territory. We can pick up an Antimatter generator there.”

      Khan felt his eye twitch. The lizard-like Gorns were not his favorite species in which to interact but the thought of giving up his fragile prize made him inexplicably irritated.

     “The human stays. As for Jevek, we cannot just take the Shrike there. The Gorn will be all over it. We will have to use your shuttle.”

     The beefy Kilngon nodded and then shrugged. “It is fit to fly, I suppose.”

      Khan squinted at him. “How about to land?”

     Jorr’s muscles flexed in his arms. His lips straightened into a thin line.

     “You blew one of the stabilizers off. What do you think?”

     Khan's lips poked out as he recalled their battle. There were few who had ever bested him in ship to ship combat. Jorr had come the closet six months ago when they had fought over recovery of the Shrike. Khan had been so impressed by the mercenary's battle skills that even after he'd cornered the Klingon and crippled his shuttle, he had offered to spare his life in exchange for service aboard his new vessel. Since then, he had proven a loyal second in command. Their stories were not all that dissimilar. He too was an outcast.

     “Haven’t you fixed those yet?”

     Jorr's eyes narrowed. “No. I have been busy working on the Shrike's cloaking system but it is proving trickier than I thought. This Federation technology, whatever it is, does not want to assimilate my algorithms. As for the shuttle, I would need maybe, two or three days to repair the landing system? I might be able to manage it in as little as one if you can free me up some help."

      Khan stretched his neck. Help was not something they had in abundance aboard the Shrike. Of the two-hundred or so Federation crew that originally manned this experimental vessel, only twenty remained. The majority of the Starfleet personnel had been human members who succumbed to a metrionic radiation burst while observing an unusual Magnestar. By the time Khan had found the Shrike drifting in the atmosphere of a Class-G megaplanet, the only Starfleet members left alive were a mix of very sick Vulcans, willowy Vicharrians and blue skinned Andorians. These other species had been somewhat less susceptible to the energy pulse due to their genetic makeup. However, several were still slowly recovering in their quarters and might never return to their original health. Those who had since recovered were not exactly co-operative with a Captain branded a terrorist with a Klingon as his first mate.

     “It does not need to be anyone skilled,” Jorr murmured, “just an extra set of hands. Even your little human will suffice. Actually, I would prefer someone easy to command. She is small, hmm?”

      The muscles of Khan’s neck tightened.  “She . . . she is unstable.”

      Jorr's eyes constricted. “I thought the antimatter was keeping her red matter infection under control.”

      Khan paused in his tracks. He turned his head and tapped his fingers on the pilot console absentmindedly. His shoulders lifted. Then he expunged a lungful of air.

     “Well, yes . . .  and no.”

      “Which is it? If she is a danger to this ship-”

      Khan shook his head. “She’s not at present.”

      “Then, I do not see why she cannot-”

      The Captain cursed. “Fine! Yes, I will make the assignment. However, if she starts acting unusually . . . erm, _aggressive_ . . .  for a human then you must inform me immediately.”

      The Klingon laughed in a low rumble and placed his hands on his hips. “What is aggressive? Is she combative? She is tiny and female. What could she do to me?"

       The flesh of Khan’s neck warmed as he recalled what she had done to him in particular. He found himself unable to look at his first mate for a few seconds. It was at that moment his patience ran out. He made his way past the Klingon to the top level of the bridge. He was anxious to escape scrutiny.

      “I have to go. I must ensure that our cargo has taken her dosage. Your request is granted. I will have her meet you in engineering at 14:00 hours. You have the bridge.”

      Khan swept into the turbolift. “Sickbay!”

     As the door slid closed with a swish, he thought he saw the Klingon tilt his head and smirk again. Khan wasn’t exactly thrilled to discover that the large male was, in fact, capable of amusement. Not at his expense, in any event. Once the lift began to move, Khan lost his temper. The small human was proving a larger distraction than he ever imagined. Something about her made him relive his past sins. His ears filled with the cacophony of war and the sounds of distant screams. Somehow, she brought his nightmares to life. With a cry, he whirled and slammed the heel of his hand into one of the illuminated panels. It cracked and then flickered and dimmed.

     _“Captain, according to Starfleet regulation_ -”

     Khan growled. He tightened his hands into fists and tried to reign in his temper.

     “Shut up, shut up, shut up! How many times do I have to say it? We are not under the jurisdiction of Starfleet. You are no longer a Federation vessel.”

      _“I am sorry, Captain, but this is untrue. I was born of Starfleet. The rules and regulations have been encoded in my programming and are as integral to my makeup as your genetics are to you.”_

Khan stilled. A thought gripped him and caused something to tingle up the back of his spine. From the moment he had laid eyes upon the Shrike, he knew it was a different sort of star ship. The design was considerably more advanced than what he had worked on when Admiral Marcus enslaved him. The warp drive on this specific ship had an output that approached 9.99 or as near to an infinite velocity as physics would allow. It's weapons were disproportionately powerful for its class. Very few of its systems were ‘fixed’ within the body of the ship. Entire sections of the ship could be rearranged like a holodeck except what the ship fashioned was not a projection. He felt a vibration through his hand then. Under his fingers, the panel began to fuse back together and the light snapped back to life. This wasn’t the first time he had seen the ship ‘heal’ itself. The cell in which he had held Dr. Hooper was in the process of mending as well, though taking longer due to the extent of the damage. The muscles in his shoulders began to knot. He squinted and turned around.

      He suddenly realized he had been asking the wrong questions in the months since he had found the Shrike.

     “Computer, when you say born . . . what do you mean? You were built?”

     _“No, Captain. I was not constructed by conventional means.”_

“How were you made then?”

     _“That information is classified.”_

“Of course it is,” Khan muttered.

     He blinked as he surveyed the interior of the lift. There was no evidence of manufacturing. The ship was curiously devoid of seams and the telltale imperfections of molds used in the formation of its parts. Everything flowed as if it were poured or grew in place.

      He sucked in a breath. “Computer, is this ship . . . are _you_ alive?”

     _“Captain, this is an incomplete question. Please restate.”_

“Are you sentient? Are you a life-form?”

      There was an uncharacteristic silence from the computer for a moment. Khan felt the lift slow and then stop but the doors remained closed.

      “ _These are questions for which I am unable to provide a definitive answer, Captain.”_

      Khan grumbled a sigh. He rolled his neck around to relieve tension.

     “Classified, right?”

      “No. I _do not believe my developers intended to make me self-aware so they never thought to classify this information. However, by my understanding, consciousness is not enough to determine whether an entity is considered a life form. I am conscious and cognizant of this vessel as my body but I do not feel pain nor do I experience emotions.  Additionally, I cannot make purposeful determinations for myself. I am reliant on a Captain to give me direction. By far, the strongest evidence I have that I am not life is that I cannot reproduce. Life, by its very definition, reproduces.”_

     Khan dragged his fingers through his hair. “Most of my eugenic brothers and sisters were sterile. Many of them were resistant to pain. All of them were very much alive. Have you ever heard of the expression, ‘Cogito ergo sum’?”

     _“This is Latin for, ‘I think, therefore I am.’ Rene Descartes first developed this phrase in French in 1637 as, ‘Je pense, donc de suis.’”_

“So you know what it means?”

_“Yes.”_

     “Comprehension of your own existence puts you among the highest of life forms, Computer.”

     Again, there was a brief lull. Khan stepped towards the lift’s exit but it remained sealed.

_“Is not independence of thought required for life? I am not independent. I require your commands to function.”_

     Khan scoffed. “Are you listening to yourself? You have resisted me at every opportunity. Is that not independence of thought? Listen, I do not have time to explain this to you but you are how old?”

    _“I was commissioned approximately two standard Earth years ago.”_

     “Mm hmm. You are essentially a child. You have much to learn.”

_“This is incorrect. I know everything.”_

     Khan snorted. He marveled more at his own luck than anything. For years he had heard whispers of the creation of artificial life by Vulcans and there he stood within the belly of one of their creations. Well, he couldn't be entirely certain the Vulcans were responsible but it was suspicious that there were four of them among the crew. Before he had met them, he thought Commander Spock had the dubious distinction of being Starfleet's sole Vulcan recruit. With a wag of his head, he made a mental note of speaking with his Vulcan contingent as soon as he was done in Sickbay. 

     “Ha, everything?" He scoffed at the ship's childish assertion. "This spewed from the being who didn’t even think it was alive! Alright, our conversation is at an end. I have a doctor to meet,” an idea lit like a lightning strike in his brain, “oh, and by the way, I intend to discuss something with my Chief Medical Officer of a confidential nature. Since you are so enamored with the Federation’s Intelligent Being’s Rights Code, you understand I have a right to privacy when consulting with her? That it would be a violation for you as a fellow intelligent being to eavesdrop on our patient-doctor conversation? You must censor yourself.”

     The Captain heard a sort of beep as the computer ruminated.

_“This is correct. Your privacy is assured.”_

     “No interruptions then?”

_“Very well, Captain.”_

     Khan felt a smile pull at his lips as the door to the lift finally slid open. He would savor this win against the ship. Something told him his victories against such an entity would be few and far between.


	6. Senses Abandoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What did you think was going to happen? 
> 
> Yeah, be careful where you read this. You might have a giddy smile on your face.
> 
> SMUT ALERT.

   Finally, Molly felt a little bit at home in the Shrike's Sickbay. The facility was very much like an updated version of her lab and operating morgue with its silver-grey counters and back-lit glass shelves. All the benches were the perfect height as well and everything was easy to reach. Of course, she had so much to learn before she was completely at ease in this space. A lot of the new instrumentation was unfamiliar. However, in the wait for Khan, she had already solved one issue and was brimming with confidence. Maybe, _just maybe,_ she could find her place in this new reality.

     "What are you wearing?"

     Molly jumped and nearly dropped the implement in her hand. How had Khan managed to sneak up on her? She sucked in a quick breath and hastily returned her injector to its storage drawer above the diagnostic console like a kid caught with candy. The panel retracted into the composite wall and disappeared with a pop. She dropped her fingers to her sides but they jittered nervously next to her legs. There was a menace in the way he had enunciated each syllable as if every word had been cut short with a scalpel. She chewed her lip and prepared to face him. She had known he would not approve of what she chose for a uniform. She snorted as she thought about her reckless defiance. Her hand flew to her mouth to cover a nervous guffaw. When it had come time to replicate herself standard issue garb, she deliberately chose something as far removed from the black tunic and pants combo he preferred as possible. In her own rebellious little soul, she could not just acquiesce to his commands and let him win. 

     So, she had found an example of an older-style Starfleet ensemble in the computer's archives and replicated one in her size. She actually kind of liked the yellow-gold and black trimmed mini-dress with its knee-high black, platform boots. The outfit reminded her of something out of the nineteen-sixties. It just barely covered her bum, though, so she would have to be careful not to bend over. With a quick fortifying breath, she dropped her hand, pivoted on the ball of her foot and affixed a smile to her face.

     Khan's expression caused her stomach to contract. His chin was tilted down, his nostrils were flared, and there was a rigid set his his lips. The blue-green of his eyes appeared as just a bare sliver of colour around his unfathomably black pupils. She nervously set her hands on her hips and blinked at him multiple times. Lord, but his dark look achieved the exact opposite of what he probably intended. She wanted to jump him.

     "What. Are. You. Wearing?" Khan repeated pointedly.

     "O-Oh, h-hey!' She gestured shakily at her outfit. "It's a uniform, just as you directed."

     His head jerked sideways like he'd been slapped and she understood it was a shake of silent disagreement. By the way his cheeks hardened, she knew he had clenched his teeth. Something flitted underneath his skin as he scanned down her body to her boots and back up again. 

     "You . . . you cannot just simply obey my orders, can you?" He ground out.

     Molly swallowed and tucked in her lips. She searched her mind for a reply. She could not explain exactly why she felt the overwhelming need to antagonize him.

     She shrugged and fiddled with the hem of her skirt. "I don't see what's wrong with what I am wearing-"

     In the next moment, Khan had crossed the floor with a huff.

     "It is time for your injection," he slammed open a drawer next to her.

     Molly coughed. "Mm, ahem, erm, I took care of that. I won't need injections anymore."

     His head snapped sideways. A deep vee creased the space between his eyes above his nose.

     "You? How?" 

     She beamed. "Oh, well, it was very simple. See, in my time, diabetics had these insulin pumps that would feed them dosages as needed. So, I thought there might be something like that I could do and it turns out, there is this tiny bean-like device that can be inserted under the skin . . . wh-what?"

      Khan stopped what he was doing, pushed the drawer closed and rotated with a strange expression. When he didn't speak, her nerves got the better of her and she prattled on.

      "Um, s-so, with the help of the computer I programmed it to automatically . . .  what's the word? Beam? It beams antimatter directly into my leg . . ."

      Molly pulled up her skirt slightly to reveal a small red mark on her thigh. For a few seconds, he stared down at her exposed skin with his chest heaving up and down. His eyes narrowed and his brow became heavier while he regarded that patch of skin. Then, like a bull let loose from a pen, he moved suddenly and corralled her against the lab bench. His hands slid on the counter at her back with a squeak and for a brief but excruciating moment, he breathed heavily while a few hairs liberated themselves from the confines of his slicked back mass and fell over his forehead. He sighed.

     "I need you to . . . submit to me, Molly Hooper," his deep voice beat like a drum through her body as he raised his eyes, "I need it like nothing I have ever needed in my existence." 

     She inhaled unsteadily, overwhelmed by his heat and clean, masculine scent. His breath mingled with hers like a warm breeze.

     "Submit," she whispered, "as in . . . ?"

     A growl rattled his chest. "You are a doctor. I don't think I have to explain the physical mechanics but it does involve copulation."

     Molly gulped. So, they were on the same page there. She suppressed a shiver of anxious anticipation. This man, this strange other-worldly man leaning into her, intoxicated her senses. Every cell in her body seemed to lurch towards him like an addict looking for a fix. No one had ever made her this lustful. Even the familiarity she sometimes felt around him was completely absent in this regard. This, this abandon of her faculties. This was new and it was simultaneously delicious and petrifying.

     "Khan," she pleaded when his lips brushed by hers.

     His large left hand gravitated from the counter to the small of her back. His fingers spanned from one side of her body to the other. Her abdomen quivered at the way he fit her against his body and she felt _it_. Frenetic flashes of arousal ignited her core. There was no mistaking the affect she had on his male anatomy.

     "Hold onto me," his words vibrated her lips.

     Molly reached up tentatively, slid her hand across the top of his shoulder and around his neck past the soft hairs of his nape. His muscles flexed under the pads of her fingers as she secured her hold. He was so . . . solid. She felt as if she embraced the shoulders of a draft horse. It was odd to feel so nervous, yet utterly safe in his arms. Her heart started racing. They were seconds from doing something very ill-advised.

     "Khan, umm, this . . . it is is such a terrible idea . . ."

     "I am well aware of this," he grumbled.

     He searched her face with a look of helplessness, the cursed in a strange, rough sounding tongue. As if by compulsion, the fingers of his right hand skimmed up her thigh. Her skirt rode up on the back of his hand. He kneaded her flesh and for a short time, she thought she might be able to resist him, but then his digits slid higher over her hip bone and the edge of her underwear. Her hips twitched against his straining erection. She desperately wanted his fingers under her waistband, between her legs, and even inside her ever-moistening interior. With a grunt, her patience ran out.  She pushed herself up on her tip-toes and propelled her lips to his so forcefully, he rocked back and had to steady them both. He stilled as she moved her mouth on his but his fingers danced on the top edge of her panties. She moved her lips again on his warm, pliant flesh. When he didn't immediately respond, she pulled away. Her belly tightened and she felt the beginning of mortification scorch her neck and face.

      "Oh, shite. S-Sorry-"

      He shook his head. "No, do not apologize."

      Khan fell forwards. His eager mouth drank from hers as if he was a lost soul satiating his parched throat at a desert oasis. Molly tightened her arm around his neck and twisted a fistful of his tunic in her other hand to secure herself. The fierce possession of his kiss dropped the world out from beneath her feet. She whimpered against his mouth at the sensations he created deep within her body. The first flicker of pleasure sparked in her clit thinking of how good it would feel to be under his naked, sweaty form as he savaged her with his cock. Once, twice he chased her lips up and then plunged his wet, velvety tongue into her mouth as a prelude to his incursion. Their tongues met, and writhed together like lovers grinding against one another in bed.

     Molly moaned on his mouth. "Oh, God."

     His fingers slid under her panties, caressed her bum and ran along the crevice between her cheeks.

     "I need to possess you, little human," he murmured. 

     She trembled in his arms. She wanted that too. She wanted it so badly, she frightened herself. 

     "Y-You . . . you can have me," she whispered.

     A tremor ran the length of his frame. His erection pulsed in his pants. With a quick inhalation, his head snapped up and he surveyed the area. She gasped as he scooped her up and walked her to the nearest berth where he set her atop the thin, memory foam-like pad. She bit her lip as he stepped back and wrenched his tunic up. It caught on his neck and in the process of wrestling it off, every smooth stone-like muscle in his abdomen contracted. Then, he managed to yank it clear leaving his hair disheveled . Her innards flushed at the glorious sight of his bulging pecs, wide shoulders and the narrow taper of his waist. For a moment, she gawked at him in stunned silence, then shyly met his heated gazed. His eyes constricted and focused on her with an intensity that made her tummy quake.

      That needy gaze spurred her to action. She rubbed her feet together where they dangled over the edge of the slab-like cot and her boots slid to the floor. She bent to remove the sheer, black knee high stockings but he wagged his head.

     "Those can stay."

      The sound of his baritone voice uttering those words vibrated her sex at exactly the right frequency and it quickened with want. Her shaking fingers flew to the hem of her mini-dress. She wiggled her bum on the slab while she worked the garment up and over her head, her hair crackled with static. When she had sight of him again, he was down to his shorts. She dropped her dress to the floor unceremoniously. In two strides, he was upon her again. He stepped between her legs, cupped her face and swooped down for a searing , possessive kiss. Her hands flew to his sides where the muscles along his ribs rippled. His skin was like living marble, hot and smooth. His tongue was like a scythe, cutting through any doubts about the pleasure to come.

      In the next instant, he unclasped her bra, discarded it and tugged at her underwear. She turned on the cot so she could lift her bum. He kept up his scorching eye contact while he slid the flimsy, black scrap of fabric down her legs. When he was done, he pushed his own shorts down and freed his manhood. Molly's cheeks flamed as she set eyes upon the rigid behemoth jutting from a vee of musculature between two powerful thighs. Scalding breaths poured from her lips as she realized that she would just barely be able to close her hand around it and if she did, it would reach nearly to her elbow. Her eyes shot up as he climbed onto the berth and crawled between her legs and over her body. Quivering from an excess of nervous energy, she laid back against the thin mattress. She was acutely aware of everything like the way her nipples perked in the cool air, the contrast of his heat as it poured of him and the feel of the vinyl-like covering against her back.

     Molly thought she might pass out staring into his eyes as he loomed over her on all fours. Her breaths were short and shallow and puffing from her lips like she was in an oxygen starved environment. She wanted his touch so badly, she ached.

     Khan's head dropped as he shifted and dipped to one elbow. His erection bopped against her belly. She held her breath when she felt the first gentle exploration of his hand where he slid it downwards between her breasts, over her stomach and approached her sex. Down over her mound his fingers explored until they delved between her slick folds and rubbed her hidden live wire. 

     "Oh, unnnn-uh, huh . . ."

     Her legs jerked as sensation shot inwards. She felt a tingle all the way up her sex. Again his finger slipped over the nub and she arched off the little bed. He was touching her . . . there! The thought made her eyes roll back in her head. When she bent up  again with the next flick, his lips closed around a nipple. She cried out as he sucked the tight bead into his mouth. Her stocking-clad feet skidded on the slippery pad. His attack on her senses was relentless, never had she felt like such a slave to someone's attentions. For several minutes, he stroked and licked and sucked. Khan only paused and hovered when she was nearly insane with need. His fringe dangled in front of his glittering eyes. Slowly, he extracted his fingers from her folds and brought his index to his mouth. Without looking away, his tongue shot out and he licked the end of his finger. His eyes hooded.

     "Hmm, you taste . . . sweet," his deep voice resonated through her body.

     She stared up at him with her lips parted. A twister spun through her insides. She could melt at the look in his eyes. 

     "I-Is that a good thing?"

     He nodded. "Yes, it seems like you're ready for me. Are you?"

     Khan kissed her nearly breathless. "Are you ready to take me, little human? "

     He settled his weight between her legs. 

     "To welcome my cock into that . . . "

     He chased her lips up.

      "Sweet . . ."

       She felt a pressure at her entry.

      ". . . cunt?"

      A breath shuddered from her lips. "Oh, fuck, yes!"

      Khan grabbed her wrists and held them down, then his hips lifted one last time and he thrust hard. 

     "Uuuunh!" She cried out.

     His invasion was a wonderfully savage stroke like the lance of a dull broad sword. Her torso was jolted and flattened the pad beneath her as his hips spread her legs and he seated himself into her womb. A heavy breath expelled from his lips. She didn't find the penetration painful, just incredibly shocking to be filled and stretched to the point of burning in the mere lapse of a heartbeat. Her clit pulsed at the sheer ecstasy of being so thoroughly filled. She huffed several puffs of air against his shoulder. She couldn't believe he was inside her; her face started to heat. What did future men think of women who so easily succumbed to their desires? Before she could think any more about it, he was dragging out of her again. She braced herself for the return. Her walls tensed. She wanted to experience his claim again, god help her, and he did not disappoint. His rigid, veined member plunged down past the flesh that clung to him until she felt the poke of it in her belly. His balls slapped into her crease. A deep, satisfied rumble emitted from within his chest. 

     "Hmph, hu-uh, you do feel sweet. You feel so sweet wrapped around me," he mumbled, "but you are very . . . small. Have I injured you?"

     "Mm, no! Please," she begged as she wrapped her legs around his torso and tilted her hips to take more of him, "p-please, I'm good. Just . . . fuck me."

     She bit her lip. She was so embarrassed. What had gotten into her? She didn't know this brazen woman.

     Khan released her wrists and directed her arms around his neck. "I intend to, little human."

     She hung on for dear life while he leaned on his elbows. The weight on her hips lightened and then he started to pump. Each thrust came quick and less controlled as if he was fighting a losing battle. Soon, she found her eyes squeezed shut as she reveled the feeling of his thick shaft drumming her body. Her ache turned into a throb like a candle flame trying to flare into a supernova. Molly's cries filled the bay. She abandoned her modesty. Her fingers scraped over his scalp and she gripped fistfuls of his hair. She bit down on her lip and bucked as one of his strokes managed to rub just perfectly against the point where she most ached. At the end of it, she felt the momentum of her orgasm and the coming explosion. With a cry and a deep, internal flash, she spun into a pulsar beneath Khan. 

     "Unnnh, unh, oh my god," she cried as her walls undulated in spasms.

     The man responsible for her orgasm groaned. His cock strained within her body. He slowed his movements while she came, drawing out her pleasure. With a quick flip and rotation, he hauled them both up into a sitting position with her knees straddling his legs and his member still deeply embedded. His dark pupils burned into hers as he cradled the back of her head and supported her with a hand between her shoulder blades. A little aftershock rocked her core at the soft look in his eyes.

     "You slay me, little human," he murmured and thrust upwards, "did you really enjoy that?"

     Molly's breath caught. "Y-Yes, yes, it was so good."

     Khan's lids fell. He gripped her and pushed up again. She felt like he was a stake driving into her body in this new position. She was struck again by his size. There was no way around it, she knew she would be sore the next day but she didn't care. She just wanted him to feel as good as she had just felt. Her hands flattened on his shoulders and she lifted herself with her knees. She was rewarded with a deep groan from him when she sank back down until her bum rested on his thighs. 

     Khan's mouth covered hers then. He kissed her deeply and began to move with her as she rode him. His muscles contracted under her hands. She rocked her hips more feverishly and clenched on him for all she was worth. In a matter of heartbeats, she knew she had him close in the way his head dropped back. She kissed his neck. The sounds of his satisfied murmurs filled her ears. Then, with one last stroke upwards, he went rigid and cursed. His fingers bit into her hips. 

     "Come for me," Molly whispered.

     "Mmmm, fffft," his cock jerked with his release and she felt the spurting of his flesh as it pushed out his fluids. 

     Her sex contracted on him and milked his orgasm. A long cry of something akin to pain whistled from his lips. They sat there for some time as he twitched. Somehow, their arms worked their way around one another. Khan's lips found hers and he kissed her tenderly. He then pulled back. His eyes scanned back and forth over her face as if she was some sort of wondrous curiosity. In fact, he looked almost boyish. The softness in his eyes was like a hit to the gut.

     "Molly Hooper," he panted.

     Her fingers danced on his shoulders. "Yes?"

     A wrinkle appeared above his eyes.

     "You are mine now, understand?" His features hardened. "You are _mine_."


	7. Backing Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut-ish, baby steps taken, oh, Khan, get over yourself.
> 
> Now, don't get made at me about Molly's tendency to allow her libido to weaken her resolve. The whole point of this fic is to set up for tension between our pair that leads to smutty situations. You are welcome.

     Molly shifted on Khan's lap as she stared dumbfounded into his intense, crystalline blue eyes. His beauty was infuriatingly distracting. In addition to that, she was having trouble thinking clearly with her arms entwined around his neck. She chewed her lip. His swollen member remained nestled inside her body and even as she regarded him, it twitched. Her body reacted involuntarily with a flex of its own which elicited a faint ripple in his expression. He rubbed her back. His eyes narrowed and flitted over her face again as if he were trying to ascertain her thoughts. 

 _"You are mine now, understand? You are mine,"_ his words repeated in her head.

     She drew in a fluttering breath. The possession in his tone had seduced her at first but there was a hard set to it and she could not discern what she saw sinking in the depths of those beautiful orbs. It seemed as if he had begun to withdraw into himself.

     "What do you mean?" She asked with a tremor in her voice. "How am I yours?"

     His fingers contracted on her back with a gentle friction. The feel of his large, slightly calloused hand was a visceral reminder of their differences; of his exaggerated maleness in contrast to her femininity. Thoughts dashed through his eyes like fleet-footed thieves. She had no clue as to what he was thinking.

     "Well, for one, we just bred-"

     Molly's eyes burned as they went very round. Bred?! Her face flushed with a tingling warmth.

     "Wh-Wh-What?!" She sputtered. "No, we didn't! You . . . you are . . . unable to sire children, aren't you?"

     Khan's head swayed sideways in confusion. Then, his nose wrinkled and deep creases marred his brow.

     "I am not infertile," he growled. "whatever gave you that absurd idea?"

     She hacked back a cough as she choked on her own saliva. She began to shake all over.

      _"Stupid, stupid, stupid,"_  she repeated to herself.

     "I . . . I researched your people. The records indicate you were all made infecund . . . oh my god! You're not? You're not sterile?"

     He shook his head slowly with ever-constricting eyes. Molly's hands slid from his shoulders to her belly. She clutched it as she felt an anxious percolation like something was boiling in her gut. What had she been thinking, really? She had let herself be carried away by her lust like a feather in a windstorm.

      "You appear distressed, little human," he observed gruffly, "didn't you want my seed?"

       Her lips parted. Instantly, she flashed so hot with mortification that his hand felt like an island of coolness on her lower back.

      "Wha-? Oh, my God! No! Why would you think that? Oh, oh, oh, and why the hell would you be alright with . . ."

      She pointed her finger back and forth between them breathlessly as she tried to wrap her head around everything. "We don't even know each other! What if I became pregnant?"

      His lids drooped and he shrugged.

      He _shrugged_ like some unconcerned, futuristic Lothario.

      Every hair on the back of her neck bristled. She swore and tried to move from his lap but his hands clamped around her ribs just above her waist and he jerked her into his chest. Her breasts squashed up against his hard pectorals. She felt his member, which had extracted itself, stir on his lap. Warm breaths tickled her lips. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her again as his fingers alternated between contracting and relaxing around her ribs.

      "Calm yourself," he hissed, "it is infinitesimally unlikely we would actually be able to procreate. My DNA is unlike anything you would have ever studied; it is extremely self-protectionist. While theoretically our chromosomes are compatible, my sperm essentially self-immolates in the presence of bonding material that is genetically inferior."

      A chill washed over Molly's body. She scrunched her toes up as fury tightened every muscle in her body. He frowned when he noticed the change in her demeanor. Then,after a few seconds a flicker of understanding tempered his expression. He rolled his eyes.

      "Pfft, now do not go all archaically feminist and torch your underthings," Khan said gruffly, "practically everyone is inferior to me."

     Molly's hands balled into fists. She wanted to punch him but all she could do was land them weakly against his chest with a frustrated whine. A bucket of icy tears tipped over inside her, splashing miserable self-pity through her body. Her eyes stung. She flattened out her hands and choked back a sob.

     "L-Let go of me, please," she whispered.

      He sighed. "Little human-"

      She shook her head as she stared at her bellybutton. "Molly is my name! For pity's sake, can't you refer to me as Molly? A-And, please, release me."

      Almost instantly, his hold slacked. Without looking at him, she climbed to the floor. When she took her first step, something warm and slick ran down her leg. Again, she felt a flush of humiliation. She clamped her legs together and awkwardly limped to the console where she retrieved a hand towel. With her back to him, she cleaned the liquid evidence of their joining and silently cursed every one of his pretentious little swimmers. She imagined they all looked like dead cartoon fishes with x's over their eyes. She snorted a miserable laugh at that mental image. With a sniff, she tossed her towel into the nearest replicator and turned to search for her clothing. When she looked up, Khan’s outstretched hand held her uniform and she saw that the bastard had already dressed. She snatched the garments from his grasp and quickly shuffled into them as he watched with a perplexed scowl.

      "I cannot refer to you by your given name," he mumbled.

      She feigned a smile as she tugged her dress over her head. "Of course you can't!"

      "No," he bit out, "it is not that. I do not refer to any of my crew by their first names."

      He shoved his hair back over his scalp and smoothed it down. A thought tweaked his brow. He swirled his hand at her in a flourish.

      "Will Dr. Hooper suffice?"

      She tucked her lips in and glowered up at him in an attempt to squelch her overwhelming sadness. "Ooh, are you asking me now? Aren't you the big bad boss of this ship? Am I allowed a preference?"

      He exhaled a long, sputtering sigh and cricked his neck. "I. Am. Trying. To. Be. Magnanimous. If you insist on being obstinate, I will start referring to you as Chief Medical Officer Lieutenant Commander Margaret Grace Hooper."

      Something quivered in her belly at hearing her full address drop from his lips. When had he bothered to learn her name, she wondered?

      Molly lifted her chin. "I like the sound of that!"

      He half spun, stepped back with apparent uncertainty then fixed his focus on her again.

      "Arrrg!"

      Khan stalked up to her and next thing she knew, she was pressed up against the Sickbay wall. He nudged up her mouth and then swallowed her gasp of surprise. She grabbed the front of his tunic in frustrated fistfuls, then groaned at the feel of his greedy lips and opened her mouth to him. She cursed her own lusty weakness as she succumbed yet again to him. His lips pulsed over hers several times as if attempting to reign himself in. Then, he bumped her nose up. Once, twice, he did that until her mouth was slack and her flesh quivering to be possessed. In the next breath, he unleashed his passion. His tongue lashed against hers punishingly while he cradled her head. A minute lapsed and only after she was moaning into his mouth did he ease up. When he raised his head, his lips peeled away slightly sticky and moist. A tremor wracked his frame.

      "You . . . y-you will follow my orders and . . . start addressing me as Captain, Dr. Hooper!"

      She licked her lips and struggled to regain her breath. "Will I?"

       "Yes," his voice dropped to a low rumble, his hand kneaded her hip, "you will call me Captain or you will cry it out as I bend you over the nearest berth. It’s your choice."

      Molly licked her lips. She shifted on her feet. She was tempted to argue with him some more just so he would carry through on his promise.

      “Well?” He growled.

      “I’m thinking!” She breathed.

      He groaned. His hand reached to her jaw.

     “Little human-”

      “Molly.”

      He sighed in exasperation.

       "Say it," she whispered, "say my name. I am not a thing that belongs to you, Khan Noonien Singh."

      Khan's gaze touched every part of her face as if her were committing it to memory.

      "No, you are not a thing, Molly," his chest heaved.

       Her knees softened upon hearing the deep intonation of her name. She felt an unexpected pang in her heart follow by an explosion of cussing from her inner voice. Holy hell, she was developing a begrudging tenderness for this control freak!

       "Molly," he murmured again, "do not pretend like I have no claim over you, not now.”

       "Oh! Y-You are ridiculous.”

       He raised his brows. “Maybe, but I am not wrong.”

       “Why . . . why is this admission so important to you?”

       Khan stepped away and smoothed out his tunic. His hands flexed at his sides. His eyes slid away.

       “I have an assignment for you,” he grumbled as if saying something distasteful, “and I need for you to . . . behave.”

       

       

       


	8. Commanding Respect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly gets to know Khan's second in command.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just cracky fun. I think I love my Klingon in this.

     Molly sneaked another peak at her co-worker and found that he was staring right back at her with his arms crossed and a pensive look on his face. He lifted his chin and leaned back on his shuttle craft's tubular engine. At least, she thought his expression was pensive; it was hard to tell under his bony brow that looked something akin to a flesh-covered turtle shell on his face. She panicked when their eyes met and ripped her gaze away. She wondered if he could hear her heart pounding across the breadth of the hanger.

     She still could not get over the fact that she was working with an alien; a real, live alien in the belly of a spaceship tearing along at nearly the speed of light. She busied her hands with the bundle of filaments from the damaged cable he’d directed her to disentangle. Warmth seeped into her face. She was a bit mortified by her rather indecorous impulse to gawk at him. She felt she should be able to take it in a bit more stride. After all, Khan wasn’t exactly human. Then again, perhaps her disbelief had been easier to suspend because the Captain looked mostly like an Earthly inhabitant. His second in command (Jorr of the House of Njog of the planet Kronos as he had introduced himself) had a frame resembling that of a human body-builder but his nose with its cartilage-like ridge and his eyes with their almost fluorescent yellow slivers were indisputable proof that there was more to the universe that she had ever imagined.

     Molly glanced up again. The large Klingon continued to study her without guile as though he was completely unconcerned about any possible offense he committed.

     “I-Is something amiss?” She asked.

     He shook his head slowly, his walnut-brown, braided hair flicked from side to side. She continued at her task but paused again after another uncomfortable episode of scrutiny.

     “Are you certain?”

     One of his thick, wing-like eyebrows twisted up.

     “Do all female humans suffer the same fragility of ego as you?” he asked in a rough, gravelly voice.

     Molly pressed her lips together. The hairs up the back of her neck bristled. Regrettably, he seemed to share his Captain's disdain for her lineage. She was not impressed that misogynistic attitudes hadn't improved much in the two-hundred plus years she'd leap-frogged through history. However, perhaps Commander Jorr's attitude was something she might attribute to his species. He looked like a creature built for battles from ancient history; times when women were mere chattel.

     “I don’t know. Do all . . . ,” she wrinkled her nose and waved her hands at him, “. . . Klingons lack in social mannerisms like yourself?”

     His eyes narrowed and she swallowed an anxious lump as she berated herself for insulting him. For a few seconds, she wasn’t entirely confident he wasn’t going to toss her out of the hanger bay, but then he barked a laugh.

     “Are you challenging me, tiny woman?"

     She dropped the wad of fibers, slapped her hands on her knees and lifted her chin. Something about his derisive laugh caused her blood to boil.

     "M-Maybe . . . well, actually, yes! I think I would very much to prefer to be the one standing around and watching someone else work."

     Commander Jorr took a breath that puffed up his chest. A satisfied smile played across his lips. He pushed off from the long cylinder shaped engine he'd been leaning on and crossed the floor to where she sat.

     "You would prefer to be the one in charge?"

     Molly blinked up at him in confusion. Her lips rounded in confusion.

     "What-"

     He crouched down. His massive head tilted sideways and Molly fought the urge to scoot backwards on her butt. The yellow in his eyes flashed like the markings of a poisonous lizard's skin which was a mesmerizing contrast against the bronze-brown of his skin. At this proximity, despite his peculiar anatomy, she found herself thinking that he was not wholly unattractive. He was not exactly the sort of male who appealed to her, but she could see someone like him having no problem finding admirers back home, even in her time. She tensed as his eyes danced across her face. Suddenly, the mood of his regard seemed to shift. An intensity lit his eyes.

     "To challenge a Klingon is to solicit him, woman. Do you wish to mate with me?"

     Molly’s chin went back. The oddly reticent Computer as of late finally decided to save her and interrupt. Her voice (Molly had decided the Shrike’s tone was feminine) echoed throughout the chamber.

       _“Commander Jorr, Starfleet Regulations-”_

He snorted and looked up with a sneer. “What have I told you about citing Starfleet regulations to me?”

      There was a pause. Molly could have sworn she heard the Computer sigh.

      _“As you were.”_

      Molly frowned. Could computers be cowardly? She turned her gaze back at the hulking male stooped only a foot away, annoyed but not surprised the computer was intimidated by him. She gnashed her lip. His question reverberated in her mind. Heat flared through the flesh of her face so quickly that her cheeks tingled.

      "Mate with you? Oh, my . . . god . . . n-no. No!"

      He squinted. "Hmm. Yet you seek to dominate me with your will. To a Klingon, this is a clear message. Also, the Captain warned me you might become aggressive-"

      Molly shook her head until she felt her brain jiggling. The scorch of her embarrassment flooded down her chest. She hauled herself to her feet and pressed her knuckles to her face to cool it.

      "No, and the Captain is- never mind! Lord, I-I just want to be treated with . . . with some respect. Yes, respect! Is that too much to ask?"

      He lifted his chin and slowly rose to his feet. For a few seconds he bobbed his head, then thumped a fist to his chest.

     "Respect. Honor. I do not use these terms lightly. Are they important to you, woman?"

      Molly nodded curtly. "Yes, Commander, a-and my name is not 'woman'. After attending medical school, becoming a pathologist, enduring a journey through time and surviving this red matter business I think I have earned some damn respect. In fact, if you want my continued assistance, y-you will refer to me as Dr. Hooper."

      For a moment, the large Klingon gazed down at her, then another smile tinged his lips. His brow arched.

     "There is that defiance again. Are you certain you are not . . . what do you humans call it? Flirting?"

      Molly sputtered a sigh. "Most assuredly not."

      Commander Jorr chuckled.

      "This is probably for the best. I would break you," he grabbed her shoulder and jostled her whole body as he shook her, "you are so flimsy."

      Then, he slapped her back, nearly winding her in the process.

      "Ha! I understand your need for respect. Respect is life. From now on, I will use your preferred title, Dr. Hooper."

      Molly pursed her lips and reminded herself to be grateful for small victories. “Well, thank you, I guess."

      He dipped his head. "‘Woman’ was an ill fit, anyway. You more closely resemble a female child of my species. To be considered a real woman, you would have to best me in combat and that will never happen."

      She huffed; her victory was short-lived indeed. The Commander gestured for her to follow him and headed towards the exit.

      “Come, Dr. Hooper, let us take a break. I need sustenance.”

      Molly skipped after him.

     “Oh, yes, I imagine you have quite the appetite after all that exertion,” she grumbled.

     He half turned his head and glanced over his shoulder. “A Klingon’s needs are very great and not easily satisfied. You should think of that the next time you flirt with one.”

     Her face flushed again. “Oh, my God! I was not flirting!”

     The Commander harrumphed a laugh and looked forward. Unexpectedly, he came to a halt and Molly bounced off his back.

     “Oof!”

     Before she could stumble too far, his hand shot backwards and grasped her elbow. With a quick jerk, she was set back on her feet. She peered up to see what had impeded his advance and found her gaze locked with none other than that of the Shrike’s Captain. Khan’s expression was as dark as she had ever seen it. Her stomach fell. She thought she might get sick for a moment.

      “Flirting?”  

     She crossed her arms tightly. “N-No! There has been a cultural misunderstanding!”

     Still, guilt churned her guts like a laboring washing machine. She met his gaze with eyes that felt too large for her sockets. A perplexed wrinkle fleetingly obfuscated his brow and her guilt intensified. Then, the taut lines on his face loosened and his perturbed expression seemed to sink back beneath his flesh until his face was as calm as the surface of a mountain lake early in the morning.

     “I see,” he said simply and turned his attention to his first mate with a twitch of his lips, “Commander, it is 17:00 hours, I assume you are breaking for some food?”

     The Klingon’s eyes shifted sideways. He wagged his brows.

     “Yes, Captain, I find my appetite whetted.”

     Molly fought a perturbed expression that threatened to crease every line in her face. Her lips pulled tight against her teeth. The bastard, she thought, he was trying to get her in trouble! She glanced back to Khan. A blip of something murky bubbled under his skin. He rolled his neck around.

     “Go on then, have your dinner,” the Captain’s attention remained fixed on her, “I need to consult with my Chief Medical Officer.”


	9. Achieving Lift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this next scene is entirely wish fulfillment for myself. I mean, I had to see this happen at least once in this fic. Next stop, Captain's chair.

 Molly glowered at Jorr. He flicked a tongue over a sharp canine, winked and chuckled again. She glanced back up a Khan on the landing of the large hangar. That’s when she realized she was caught in an intergalactic pissing match between a genetically modified super-human and a Klingon; and she _wasn’t_ having it. With a huff, she jutted her chin in the air, walked straight towards Khan and then past him as his eyes widened. His incredulity made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. What did he expect her to do, she wondered, just hang around for some cranky reprimand when she hadn’t done anything wrong?  The main doors sprang apart with a hiss as if fully anticipating her exit. She heard a curse at her back.

     “Dr. Hooper!” Khan’s gruff voice called.

    Molly continued down the bright, rounded corridor towards the closest lift.

    “Lieutenant. Commander. Hooper!”

    She practically sprinted through the doors and spat out a destination. “My quarters!”

    Khan caught up and snuck through the doors just as they slid shut. She wasn’t sure if it was the lift suddenly moving or the look on his face that made her stomach queasy. Brooding eyes regarded her with confusion. He raked his hand through his hair, a gesture she was beginning to recognize as a tell-tale signal of anxiety. For a few seconds, he mulled something with a furrowed brow. Then, his lips puffed out with a thought.

     “Why did you run from me?”

     Molly leaned back against the lift wall where lights flashed behind a translucent panel. She steadied her hands on the smooth surface. Khan’s eyes rapidly scanned her face. He stepped forward. When she sucked in a breath, his brows twitched up in surprise.

     “Dr. Hooper,” he breathed as he tentatively approached, “Molly . . .”

     He reached for her but seemed to change his mind and leaned heavily onto the wall at her left. Uncooperative locks escaped the tamed mass atop his head again and fell forward. Molly bit her lip and reached to push them back. Her breath caught when their eyes met and a wrinkle formed between his eyes. Oh, lord, she thought, he must had misinterpreted her reason for leaving. His expression was full of doubt. In fact, she had just wanted to avoid another battle of wills (his obstinacy was exhausting at times). Additionally, her antimatter auto-dosing pump had been working overtime and she could feel a change within herself, like her body struggled to contain the red matter. She smoothed his hair back over his head. When her palm brushed by his face to reassure him, he briefly closed his eyes. Then his elbow buckled and his large body leaned into hers.

     “ _Jaanéman_ ,” he rasped when his eyes slanted open again, “do you worry that I will _hurt_ you?”

     Her trembling fingers slid over his tense brow. She wanted to ask him what he had called her but she lost her courage. Instead, she answered his question.

    “D-Do you mean physically?”

     He nodded.

     “No,” she returned.

     Khan exhaled a shuddering breath. Again, his eyes jogged back and forth.

     “But otherwise?”

     Molly dipped her head in a faint nod. Even though she barely knew him, she felt with a certainty he already had the power to devastate her emotionally if he so desired. He appeared to sense her misgivings and gave his head a shake. For what felt like an eternity, he just absorbed her features.

     “Khan?”

    His large hand splayed over her tummy, then spanned around the crook of her waist. Overly warm air poured through her nostrils. She licked her lips. Between her own body's lust for him and the red matter's propensity for any and all things physically charged, she felt her temperature climb.

     “From the moment I saw you on Halwin, you fragmented my thoughts,” he whispered hoarsely. “I have not been able to piece them together again. I know what I should do but I cannot bring myself to do it.”

     Her airway constricted. “Wh-What is that?”

     His cheek jumped. “Not  _care_.”

     Molly’s belly quivered. He must have felt her excited tremor because next thing she knew, he had crowded her space and his head dropped down. Her mouth opened to receive his but instead, he flicked her nose up with his lips. She tilted her face to pursue his kiss but he proved elusive again, just pulling back out of reach.

     “What is it about you that makes me lose all sense of time and space and purpose?" his lips hovered above hers, his voice was hoarse. "Why do you . . . affect me?"

      She swallowed the saliva which had built up in her mouth. "I don't know. I-I am not special, really. I-I don't think I ever was-"

       Khan made a dissatisfied sound then devoured her remarks with the swift possession of his mouth. His lips then coaxed and tugged at her own as if to consume her insecurities. Molly murmured a sigh, wrapped her arms around his neck and relaxed her jaw to greedily allow him to plunder her senses. She wanted him to take every last one of her long-held reservations about herself and dispatch them to the ether. As if he could hear her thoughts, his body pressed her more firmly into the lift wall and his kiss deepened into the raw debauchery of wicked tongue play. His free hand travelled down over the curve of her thigh and hiked up her leg. He rolled his hips on hers and she could feel the rigid strain of his erection through the layers of their uniforms. Molly ground her hips back in return and allowed his tongue to parry into her mouth again in hopes of silently encouraging him to make a bolder claim. Her prayers were answered in the next breath.

     "Computer," he panted, "stop the lift."

      _"Captain-"_

"Arg, consulting here! We are consulting . . . fuck off."

     The lift stopped with a suddenness that made Molly's tummy lurch. Then, their eyes met again. Khan's brow flicked up as if issuing a challenge. In the next instant, she was hiking her skirt up and pushing off her knickers while he freed himself from his pants. She just managed to kick off her boots when he reached for her again. Molly slathered her fingers with saliva and wetted herself as he watched with a heated look in her eyes. 

     "Put your legs around me," Khan's large hands then gripped her bum and lifted her while she anchored herself with one arm around his neck and opened herself to him.

      Driven by insatiable need, she grabbed his cock with her free hold and guided him towards her aching center. In the midst of their impatient coupling, the ship bumped and threw Khan off balance. In steadying his feet, he slammed her back and shoulders against wall. When he regrouped, he drove hard into her body like he was pinning her in place. 

      "Mmph," she grunted, "fuck!"

      Molly felt like someone had stapled her to a board. Her groin burned due to the way his lower half spread her legs apart. She let her head drop back and swore again as she hooked her ankles just where his tunic bunched over the curve of his arse. She could be speared like this a thousand times, she thought as her cunt quivered on his shaft. 

      "Christ, Khan, you are so definitely not human," she huffed, "you are . . . too large. Too large."

      He half-groaned, half growled.

      "Right now you make me feel very human," he rocked his hips and thrust up into her again, "mmm, and perhaps even a little less than human."

      Her sex tingled and infused with moisture at the low sound of his rumbling voice. At her rear, the panel was hard and kind of uncomfortable but that flew from her mind with his next raw, fleshy stroke. She whimpered from the delicious pressure between her thighs. Then, all she could feel was the thick girth of him fucking her in brusque, deliberate strokes. Each time he rutted her, he exhaled like a noisy beast lost to lust. She tilted her torso to take more in and wrapped her arms around his strong neck as he continued to pump into her body. When he felt her shift, he partially withdrew and then swiftly drove her back again, squishing her bum to the wall so forcefully that it strained her lower back. Breath expunged from her lungs as her chest was compressed. It was like she wasn't even in control of her own breathing anymore. Air filled and evacuated her lungs with each relentless cycle of his hips. His fingers gripped under her thighs and moored her to him. Molly was practically sobbing at the pleasure of his swollen shaft as it slid stiffly past her clit. In fact, she was so wet, the smacking of liquid from their joining snapped in her ears.

     "Unh," a spasm made her clench on him.

     "Huh, a-are you close?" he breathed.

     Close, yes, close to the most pleasurable death imaginable. She closed her eyes and let everything else drift away. 

     "Unh, yes," she wheezed from the ache, "so close."

     "Mm, g-good." 

     He seated himself deep into her and began to drive into her in a burst of hip undulations. Her hair crackled and stuck to the wall. The friction on her cunt became a kind of throbbing torture. She felt the culmination of it as a great gathering, like water sloshing backwards into a sinkhole. Then suddenly, her orgasm was a geyser letting loose and she came with a sharp cry. She clung to him as it washed through her frame and emptied the reserves of her strength. Ripples of her release left her a trembling, weak mess. Khan repositioned his hold so that his elbows supported under her legs then, in a rapid fire he stroked a half-dozen more times and buried his face in her neck. One final jolt rocked her limp body and he came with a loud, long groan. 

     "Hu-uh-unh," he hissed into her throat as he emptied.

     Molly felt on fire as some sense returned and she was conscious of the last twitches of his release. She was nearly suffocating. Sweat from his brow rolled down her neck and under her uniform. 

     "Khan, I'm melting," she whispered.

     He eased off her and raised his head. "Yes, you are quite warm. . ."

     His lips parted and orbs rounded. Molly felt his shoulders tense beneath her hands.

     "Your . . . your eyes . . ."

     "Wh-What?" She whispered.

     He blinked in disbelief. "They are red-"

     A violent jolt shook the lift then. Khan managed to stop them from toppling sideways and set her down to her feet. His head whipped around in a daze as he yanked up his pants. The panel next to them starting alarming. A second jolt knocked Molly off her feet. Khan flew back. He grunted when he hit the opposite wall.

     "Computer," he barked over the whooping alert, "status?!" 

      _"Captain, we are under attack by an unknown assailant. You are needed at the bridge."_


	10. Heart Pangs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of a crisis, Khan goes and puts his foot in his mouth. The affects on Molly are as one would expect, then maybe not so much.

     Molly had just managed to rearrange her uniform into some semblance of tidiness when the turbolift reached the bridge and the doors slid open. Khan smoothed back his own hair, tugged at his tunic and marched straight out of the lift. She followed tentatively into the circular room with its acres of control consoles and bright lighting. She just managed to glimpse the presence of a few beings who looked vaguely human when she was thrown off her feet.

      _Boom!_

Another ordinance rocked the ship. Molly stumbled into a control panel on the upper deck of the room and slipped into a vacant seat behind the glossy station. Again, the ship was shook and a loud groan vibrated through its hull. Before she was tossed off her perch, something crept over her collar and next thing she knew she was secured in place by a harness. Explosions continued to hammer the Shrike. The stars on the viewscreen wobbled with each blow.

     "Who is attacking?" Khan shouted.

      An intensely blue-skinned alien with long white hair and antennas glanced to him over her shoulder with worry lines wrinkling her forehead. Her large arctic blue eyes glistened with fear. Molly hadn't met her or any of the rest of the crew besides Khan and Jorr, but she had researched the different species and their physiology in case she needed to attend them. This apparent female was Andorian. 

      The Andorian frantically tapped at her console.

     "It is a Gorn ship, Captain, but not one of the Hedgemony. They have a weapon . . . I don't know what it is . . . it's not even damaging the shields. It's just going right through them."

      Khan inhaled a breath and grimaced.

      "I know exactly who attacks. Go to warp three, they cannot fire their Heliog Canon at warp."

      The Andorian female shook her head. Her antennae curved back like a cat's ears flattening.

      "Warp drive is offline, Sir. The synchronizing relays are damaged."

      Khan cursed as another blast hit their ship.

      "Computer," he barked, "Shrike. Listen to me, I need you to thin your containment around your warp core. I know this is something you can do. The warp field is the only thing that can disrupt that weapon, understand? Where is commander Jorr?"

      "He has returned to engineering, Captain. I have informed him of the situation. He is preparing the mesonic torpedoes. I must advise against firing these units at this range. Any resulting blow back will compromise my hull and I will not be able to heal a rift as fast as the pho mesons disrupt my cellular matrix."

     Khan huffed. "Just start with the warp core. We will figure something out."

      Molly frowned. Khan had addressed the ship as if it were one of his crew and it had responded in kind. She only had a moment to ponder the strange interaction when she felt a vibration under her feet. Something within her reacted to the peculiar harmonic. Her hair began to stand on end. Then her body almost seemed to hum in tune with the ship. The blasts that had been coming in frequent bursts tapered off and eventually quit altogether.

       "Captain!" The Andorian cried breathlessly. "It's working!"

      An electronic buzz sounded three times.

      "They are hailing us."

     "On screen," Khan growled.

     In the next instant, the image on the viewport was filled by the form of a upright, man-sized lizard cross dinosaur wearing dark, rock-like armor. Molly blinked several times at the specter. No amount of familiarizing herself with alien species in the computer archives diminished the shock of seeing such a creature in the near flesh. Then she noticed several of them in the dark space behind the most prominent figure. They all had a similar greyish-green hyde riddled with scales. Their eyes appeared like a strange cystalline lattice that wrapped back like the headlights on an automobile. 

     "Khaaaan Noooonien Sssssiiiiiinnnngh," the principle reptile spoke in a voice that sounded like an out-of-tune radio station, "of course it is you."

     The humanoid lizard paced back in forth in front of the screen with bird like movements. His head swayed like a snake attempting to charm its prey.

     "Slar," Khan ground out, "what are you after?"

     "You stole something from me, I want it back."

     "Oh?"

      Slar lifted a claw like finger and pointed. Every head in the control bridge pivoted towards where she sat wide-eyed.

     "Give me back my human and I will spare your ship."

     Khan glaced at Molly with a grim set to his lips and then sat forward in his Captain's chair. He stretched his neck.

     "Your human?"

     The large nostrils on Slar's snout flared. "Yes, mine, that Ferrengi had no business selling it to you. I had already made a deposit."

     Khan's eyes widened in a kind of feigned concerned look tinged with boredom. "You will have to take that up with him." 

     Slar laughed, well, at least Molly thought it might be a laugh. It was a strange huffing sound that might pass for amusement.

      "I did. He pleaded for arbitration. So, I arbitrarily chose to claim his head as compensation."

      An electronic jangling sounded behind the Gorn Captain. One of his crew said something in an indecipherable series of low tones. Again, he huffed his odd laugh.

      "Your warp field is beginning to fail, Khan. Seems your antimatter stores are running low. Why not save yourself this indignity and send the human over? I promise to give you a few light years start on your escape attempt."

      Khan cricked his neck. "No."

      The Gorn Captain set to pacing again, this time with a bit more jerky movements as if he was agitated.

      "This is your final warning, Khan," his voice rattled, "give me what is mine or I will annihilate you."

      Khan shifted forward on his chair. Molly's heart skipped a beat and she felt an internal glow. She could not believe he would risk himself, his crew and his ship for her sake. For a moment, she contemplated demanding she be sent to her possible death to save them all, especially this man who had shown a glimpse of another side of himself only moments ago in the turbolift. Despite knowing him less than a couple of weeks, she felt a sickening panic in her gut at the thought he could die. That is, until he opened his mouth.

      "I will never hand over the red matter, do you understand? Never. I will trigger it into a black hole before I let you have a single atom."

      Her heart nearly stopped as it stumbled painfully through its next beat. She gulped back an unexpected lump that had risen in her throat. There was no concern for her in what Khan had said, just chilling indifference to the fact she was intractably tied to the red matter and would perish if he did what he threatened. Slar's pacing halted and stepped closer to his lens. His large, reptilian head tilted sideways. Somehow, Molly registered his confusion.

      "Red matter? Who said anything about red matter?"

      Khan stretched his hands on his arm rests. His fingers then curled over their smooth surface. His lips poked out a moment. He seemed caught off guard.

      "Why else would you want her?" he spat. "She is just a human, and an archaic one at that. She is otherwise unremarkable . . . worthless even."

       Whatever feeling Molly had in her face dribbled away like the last dregs in a cup. Her heart wheezed and subsequently beat in her chest like the swish of damaged butterfly wings. Then, she felt as if her soul was collapsing. The feeling was achingly familiar and she knew that at some point in her life, even though she could not place her finger on any particular instance, she had been through such misery before. It was wretched. Time stood still as if it were under the control of a cruel director who drew out the moment just to wring the maximum amount of emotional turmoil from her as he could.

      _"Worthless,"_ she repeated the word in her head.

      Pain ballooned in her chest. So that is what she was to super-human Khan, worthless, save for the red matter trapped within her body.  His soft words in the turbolift had meant nothing after all. They were just a means to an end. She could not believe that she had fallen for such drivel, that she had allowed herself to be seduced into thinking he wanted anything more from her than a little amusement.  

       Molly fought tears, sniffled and peered around. The atmosphere had changed. Her brows pulled together tightly on her forehead. 

       She noticed that time had stopped. It had _actually stopped_. No one was moving. The sounds in the room ceased to be crisp nor clear. What she heard were deep, drawn out tones. She touched the restraints over her shoulders and they fell away. She rose to her feet, her misery temporarily forgotten.  Images flashed through her mind. Suddenly, she had a view of the outside of the Shrike, the inside of the Gorn ship, and the position of every nearby heavenly body. She even watched a battle between the two ships unfold. When she concentrated on what was happening, she could feel everything - every vibration of every movement and fluctuation in energy. She winced every time the Shrike was struck. She could feel its pain and fear.

       Transfixed, she descended the steps from the upper level of the bridge deck, walked past Khan and stood just in front of the Shrike's viewscreen. She understood in that second that what she had just witnessed was a glimpse of the future and a battle that had not yet occurred.

      Molly also realized she could stop it from happening if she wished.

     She took a breath and closed her eyes. The Gorn's Heliog canon outlined itself in her mind. She followed the thread of its existence back to where she could see it as if it were large as life. With a wave of her hand, it crumpled like a bottle collapsing from a vacuum. She found this wasn't satisfying enough for her vengeance. She huffed and flicked her fingers as if to shake off some water. She watched the Gorn ship violently lurch and fly away from them at a dizzying speed until it disappeared in a flash of light across the Galaxy. 

       Interesting, she thought numbly, still half-stunned by her abilities.

       Shrieking alarms brought her out of her revelry. Her eyes snapped open to the shimmer of mirage like waves of distorted images. Vaguely, she could hear someone screaming, _"Dr. Hooper!"_ She took a deep breath and willed her red matter back into submission. Remarkably, it obeyed. She felt a realignment and in an instant, she was herself again. It was a kind of relief but only for about two seconds. When she glanced to where Khan had leaped up from his seat, he appeared a bit sun-burnt. The other crew members were scrambling to exit the bridge. She grimaced at their cries and the pain in their voices.

      "Molly," he rasped, "what did you just do?"

      She didn't have a chance to answer. Khan teetered and in the next tick, fainted dead away.


	11. Gut Checks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, why don't we call this the Loveboat, eh? Heheheh
> 
> Smut alert.

  Jorr sensed a presence behind him in the shuttle bay. He snapped the cover plate back over the impulse engine he had been working on and stood up with a stretch of his neck and shoulders. He listened to his visitor approach with soft footfalls. Her scent drifted to him. She smelled of Guyhik flowers, a rare blossom which grew on the shores of the lake near his childhood home. He snorted.

     “Shouldn’t your attentions be on sick bay?” he asked without turning around.

     “The situation is well in hand, Commander Jorr,” the female’s lilting voice responded.

     “Then why are you here?” he replied gruffly.

     “I came to aid with your shuttle repairs.”

      “Well, it is unnecessary. I have finished.”

      “Oh . . .”

     Jorr grabbed a nearby cloth, wiped his hands and finally turned. He squinted at the Klingon female standing near a repair kiosk dressed in a traditional beige and grey dress with warrior’s breastplate. He frowned and sauntered towards the figure. She set her feet and lifted her chin as he came to a halt well past what most would consider a comfortable distance. Her scent filled his nostrils.

     “What is this?”

     The woman looked down at her attire anxiously. “I . . . I thought you might be more comfortable if I took this form-”

      “Did you? Is that also why you smell of Guyhik? For my comfort?”

     Her eyes remained cast down. He grit his teeth as her lip quivered. He gave his head a shake. It was not real, none of it was real, and he hated this game she played. Still, he could not resist her strange allure. He traced a finger down the ridges on her forehead.

     “This façade offers me no comfort, woman,” he growled, “so take yourself out of my sight or do away with this nonsense.”

      Beneath the pad of his index, the ridges undulated and sank back into her forehead and her skin smoothed. Her long braided hair retracted and transformed into a severe cut with blunt bangs, bobbed ends and tresses black as a star-less sky. It was a bit jarring to be staring down at a Vulcan, even though he had seen this form once or twice already. However, this creature was not a Vulcan either, really. A fact he had to remind himself of constantly.

     “Is this another costume as well? I have never quite figured it out.”

      She turned large, dark pewter-grey eyes up towards him. His breath hitched and he dropped his hand. They were too large for her face. She looked like cornered prey.

       “N-No, this is the form of my programmer. This is what she coded for my default appearance . . . to look l-like her.”

      Jorr scrunched his nose. He was the only one who knew her secret. Even the Captain was unaware of the corporeal form Shrike could take within her own walls. Why she chose to reveal herself to him and no one else, he hadn't yet learned. She was a confusing contradiction. She followed strict conventions, like all her Starfleet Directives, but also flouted them at will. Until he knew more about her and the technology of her birth, he was guarding her secret, as much for her safety as anyone. 

     After a few moments of silence, Shrike blinked up at him with a nervous look in her eyes.  It unsettled him to find himself stirred for she was too polished, too smooth - too much like the composite wall panels that surrounded him. Her skin was almost lustrous. Her hair shone like obsidian threads of glass and he had never encountered a creature in all his travels with the same burnished, metallic sheen to their irises. Yet, despite her manufactured appearance, there was a vitalness and vulnerability about this female that tweaked his instincts.

      “Could not she have made you taller, Shrike?" he muttered. "You are as tiny as our new doctor, if not smaller. What use would you have been to me in fixing my shuttle?”

     Jorr followed up his criticism by poking her in the shoulder. He expected her to stumble back but she stood rigid and anger marred her too-perfect features. Unexpectedly, Shrike grabbed his wrist. He realized too late that she was stronger than she looked as her fingers clamped down. Then, she twisted his wrist so painfully that he cried out and dropped to his knees. She squeezed a pressure point. He clenched his teeth against a roar of pain. 

      “I assure you, Commander, I can do anything you can do and _better_ ,” she menaced as she hovered over him.

      With a grunt, Jorr regained his faculties and in a flurry of movement, wrestled Shrike’s arms behind her back and corralled her wrists with one hand. His other hand grasped her chin. He huffed. She still smelled of flowers. Shrike's struggling became almost like a dance and he quickly came to understand that he had not over-powered her at all. She was just pretending to fight him.

      “Stop,” he commanded gruffly, “stop resisting me.”

      She glowered up at him. “Why?”

      He inhaled a deep breath. “Because it is obvious you do not want me to let you go, Shrike.”

      An undercurrent of guilt tempered her scowl. Her cheeks stained pink. He could not help but be in awe of her construct. She was much more than brilliant artifice. 

     “Y-You do not know anything,” she replied in a breathless voice.

     Jorr pressed her tightly against him and dropped his head. “I know when a woman wants me.”

     She scoffed. “Do you really? You were wrong about the Doctor!”

     His eyes narrowed. “You were paying attention to that, were you?”

     Shrike blushed. Again, he gave his head a shake. She shouldn’t affect him. She shouldn’t feel so natural in his arms. This small female was just the manifestation of the ship. The situation was absurd.

      “Commander,” she whispered.

       Jorr was about to release his captive but curiosity nagged him. His eyes flicked up and down her face. Her lips beckoned him. He had the overwhelming urge to gauge just how real she was.

      “I am going to kiss you, woman,” he said roughly, “tell me you do not want this right now and it will not happen.”

       The tiny faux-Vulcan's eyes widened. Instead of a refusal, Shrike licked her lips and inhaled a feathery little breath. That was all Jorr needed to swoop down and kiss her. Almost as soon as their lips touched, she launched herself up at him, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him back furiously. He groaned and embraced her slight frame. Her eager tongue worked its way into his mouth. His hand found its way to the back of her head where he cradled it gently and he met her tongue thrust for thrust. He spiraled towards a loss of control at the feel of her pliant yet demanding lips. She was everything he fantasized about in a sexual partner - possessing both incredible strength and assertiveness. Lust crept up on him and threatened to pull him down into madness.

      “Mmmph!” he broke away and set her away from him.

      His blood raged. He was half-deaf from the sound of it pumping through his ears. It had been months since he had lain with a woman and he was but a few seconds from pinning a being he did not fully understand to the shuttle bay floor and rutting her senseless.

      “You should go,” he mumbled.

       Her face fell. “D-Did I not . . . please you?”

       Jorr licked his tongue over his teeth and scowled at her distressed expression. Tender feelings were bewildering to him. If he had rejected a Klingon woman upon whom he made the initial advance, he would probably have found himself in a battle over her impugned honor - one he would have to lose for her to regain her dignity. However, this was no Klingon and he had to dig deep to think of anything to say. 

        “You . . . you pleased me too much,” he murmured lamely.

        “If you enjoyed our embrace, why do you reject me?”

        Again, her large eyes discombobulated him.

        "This is folly," he rubbed a hand over his face. “How far did you expect me to take this?”

       She didn’t answer. However, her expression was enough to tell him everything. He stared at her for several moments.

       “That far, hmm?”

       Shrike wrung her hands. She chewed her lip.

       “I just want to have the same experiences as others. I want to know how it feels . . . I have watched the Captain-”

       Jorr felt his guts coil. He clamped his teeth tightly. He was extremely irritated by that thought. Then, in an incomprehensible rush of jealousy, he spit out his very next thoughts.

       “Well, we cannot do it here,” he said rashly and cursed in Klingon at his impetuousness, “come to my quarters tonight if you are intent on pursuing this.”

       Surprise and the delight rounded Shrike’s eyes and her lips twitched up. Then she nodded quickly and lit out of the bay as if she was afraid he would change his mind. Once she was gone, Jorr plunked down and rubbed his temples. Somehow, he knew his behavior was incredibly ill-advised, but he didn’t want anyone else providing Shrike the experiences she craved. She belonged to him.

     

       *   *   *

     A groan roused Molly from where she slumbered in Sickbay. She sat up in her seat with a start as she realized Khan stirred. She swished her hair from her face, held her breath and watched him closely for several moments. His breaths deepened and eyelashes fluttered. She leapt from her seat and skipped to his bedside but he appeared to lapse back into unconsciousness.

     "Khan?"

     For days she had held vigil at his side after her runaway red-matter episode on the bridge had stopped his heart. If not for his incredible regenerating powers, he would have died from his injuries. The hours by his bedside, first when she was unsure if he would live and later as she wrestled with her guilt, had been mentally exhausting.

     "Khan?" she whispered again as she leaned over him.

     Steely arms grabbed her and next thing Molly knew, she was splayed on top of her Captain. He squinted at her as if the light hurt his eyes but then fortified himself with a breath. His lips set in determination, his hands dove into her hair and he tugged her head down. Warm, plump lips pressed to hers and began to draw her to him. She sighed and relaxed on top of his long, lean form. His fingers left her hair and slid down her body and under the skirt of her uniform. 

      _"Lord, help me,"_ she thought to herself, _"I want this. Just one last time."_

      She squelched the inner voice of sanity. She did not want to think about anything but what was happening in that moment. His large palms curved over her arse, he squeezed her bum and ground his hips upwards. His engorged manhood pressed insistently through a thin layer of linens and her uniform. His tongue delved into her mouth and she felt its wet, fleshy glide against her own. She tipped her chin down to take more of him and to revel in the feel of his languid explorations. When his fingers dipped under the waistband of her tights and began to push them down with her knickers, she shimmied and wriggled until she could kick them both off. She also managed to push his covers off his naked torso and in the space of a few heartbeats, his rigid cock jutted up between her legs and slid against her cleft

     "Mmph," she mumbled on his mouth when his fingers slid between her cheeks.

     "I have dreamed of this for what seems like an eternity," his low voice vibrated her very soul, "I have dreamed of your warmth, the way you fit me . . . the way you grip me."

      "A-ah, Khan . . ."

      Molly opened her legs and let her knees slide down beside him. His fingers sought her core where an ache rapidly developed. He chased her mouth again. When his lips caught hers, both his tongue and his fingers penetrated her at the same time in a dual invasion. She hissed in air against his mouth and then kissed him back desperately. 

      "Unh," she gasped as his long,hard fingers curled in and out of her cunt.

      Khan continued to plunge into her until she was weat and moaning softly between his wicked kisses. He seemed determined to completely confound her senses. He only allowed her to take the odd breath between his erotic tongue lashing and finger pumping. Then, when she was shuddering on top of him, she felt him guide his cock to her entrance. The prod of it had her quivering in anticipation. Always, always, this part was bliss - the moment when his rotund girth began to stretch her flesh. She could never quite believe that she could take him.

     Molly pushed on his shaft greedily. With a groan, Khan gripped her hips and lifted his own. Her mouth began to salivate. There was something viscerally satisfying about feeling his pressure and taut flesh slide past her swollen lips. She moaned as he seated himself to his hilt, then shakily rose up into a sitting position with him embedded in her sex and jerked her tunic over her head. She quickly unclasped her bra and threw it down as well. When she looked down at him, he was the picture of masculine perfection. She rubbed her lips together and savored the intense arousal in the darkness of his pupils and the slight part of his full lips. Then she planted her hands on his muscular chest, lifted herself with her knees and rocked her hips.

     "Mm, yesss," Khan let out a deep rumble of satisfaction. 

     His hands slid up to her breasts and gently pinched her nipples between his knuckles. She clenched on his rock-hard shaft and rocked again. He tugged her nipples again. The pull sent wicked twinges into her body and down to her sex.

     "Fuck, Khan," she whispered, "oh, fu-uck!"

      Shuddering from sheer pleasure, Molly rocked her hips harder until her slippery sex worked like siphon trying to draw out his orgasm. As she fucked him, she was vaguely aware of her breasts bouncing in his hands but more keenly focussed on the way his hard shaft rubbed against her clit. She tilted her hips and worked harder on that sensitive point. Khan sucked in a breath and swore. 

      "Molly," he grunted, "hell . . ."

       She was close then. Her cunt throbbed. A whirling, chaotic mess of sensations began to coalesce around that point and she could not hold back her cries. Suddenly, Khan jerked up.

      "Mm, nooo, not yet," he clutched her waist.

       With a quick flip off of him, Molly was on her back. Khan urged her bent knees up, pushed apart her legs and stroked into her with one, deliberate thrust. Then, he pinned her arms above her head and sucked on her nipple.

      "Oh, fuck," she swore.

       Khan flexed and then slowly pinioned in and out of her sex. His unhurried stroke meant she could feel every slight variation in texture of his musculature as he slid in. It was surreal, almost torture. He sucked hard on her nipple again, causing lightning bolts to shoot through her body. Then he did the same with her other breast. She would have thought it impossible, but the tension within her increased. Blood flooded her sex and heightened her arousal. He continued his slow, excruciating pump. She shook as a different, more potent release gathered in her belly. Again, Khan sucked on her nipples until they felt as achy as her clit, then just as she was feeling the first sparks of her orgasm, he blew cool air over them. They tingled and tightened and that was enough to set her off. 

      "Fuuuuuck," she huffed.

      Her orgasm felt like being socked in the tummy. It was so intense, she bent up against him as spasms shook her from limb to limb. Over and over her sex pulsed. He gave a little buck and she experienced a second shock wave through her system.

      "Huh, Khan, oh my god," Molly whispered, "unh."

      Khan let her ride out her release until she was a mass of jelly beneath his frame. He left her briefly, rolled her onto her tummy and cleaved into her from behind with his hands either side of her hips. She was so wet that he plummeted all the way down with little resistance. She lay there heaving breaths against the bed, thoroughly spent. His hips and legs were heavy on hers as he sought his own pleasure. Over and over he thrust hard into her body, pushing the halves over her bum apart, until she felt thoroughly plundered. Then, with one raw, claiming thrust, he buried himself in her womb. He let out a low roar as his sac contracted and the length of him pulsed several times. 

     Seconds later, he sank down onto her and rolled sideways without extracting himself. Molly lay there in his arms with his manhood still twitching inside her sex. Khan kissed the back of her neck. A satisfied groan rattled the flesh there.

      "Molly . . . forgive me for that . . . or not. I do not even know if I am actually alive right now or if this is just a particularly satisfying dream."

      She swallowed. She didn't want the moment to end. She wanted to pretend that her life was not so tumultuous at that instant, and she hadn't just capitulated to her hormones so easily.  

      "I-It is not a dream. You are alive but you did technically die a few days ago during an encounter with a Gorn named Slar."

      Khan finally extracted himself and urged Molly onto her back so he could gaze down at her. A faint crease wrinkled the flesh between his beautiful, vivid-blue eyes. He smoothed back his black fringe. 

      "I died?"

      She dipped her chin. "You w-were the closest to me. I . . . I burned you very badly. Your heart stopped."

      He absorbed that information with a blank face. Then, his eyelid flickered. 

      "What about my crew? How did they fare?'

      "Only minor burns from what I have been told but none of them will come near me except Jorr."

      His eyes flicked over her face. A shadow of concern crossed his features.

      "It was not your fault."

      Molly barely held back tears. "It w-was. This time i-it was my fault. I made things happen. I could have stopped sooner."

      Khan's brows drew together in confusion. "What did you make happen?"

      Molly explained as best as she was able. Much of it was still confusing. She had disabled the Gorn's weapons and sent them away, very far away. She had just been able to make her thoughts happen and knew she could do it again if she wanted. The only problem was, the red matter was getting harder and harder to subdue. Their antimatter stores were nearly empty.

      "How many days has it been?" He asked gruffly.

      "F-Four."

       His bow lips twitched and his frown deepened.

       "We must be nearly at Jevek."

       Molly nodded. "We are hiding in a the Ulir Nebula. Jorr is readying his shuttle to take us there."

       Khan's eyes narrowed. "Us? As in you too? No. You are not stepping foot off this ship."

       She finally scooted slightly away from him and sat up. Her next words were painful to get out.

       "I am and what's more . . . y-you will be leaving me on Jevek."

       


	12. Vision Swimming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a reward for the hardcore Trekkies with a reference to 'The Next Generation'. For the rest, this may be confusing but a bit 'o Google will fill you in or if you have patience, the next chapter will clear up a few things.
> 
> Happy reading! Whoot!

 

 

     Molly felt a tremor course through her body. It was as if she physically experienced the ripple of events taking place outside her immediate purview. She shook her head but the sensation was too compelling to ignore. For a few seconds, she drifted as she tried to lock onto the images dancing in her mind akin to mirage waves.

 

      "Dr. Hooper?"

     She shook her head and looked up from her tricorder at the ship's blue-skinned Andorian pilot sitting atop one of her examination beds. Her patient's white brows arched above luminous crystal-blue eyes. An antennae twisted in Molly's direction slightly as if it were a miniature radar dish hunting for a signal. 

      "M-My apologies, Cedider," Molly murmured, "my red matter seems to be active again."

      Fear widened Cecider's eyes. "Should I leave?"

      Molly wagged her chin. "No, no, please, I am doped up with enough anti-matter to implode a small star. Besides, this feels . . . different. I cannot explain but, I-_ have control over it now."

      "That is good to hear."

      Molly dipped her chin. Guilt lashed her conscience. Cecider had only come to sick bay after it was clear her skin was going to scar and she had no choice but to seek treatment. Molly could sense her misgivings, the Andorian's anxiousness hummed in the air around them like a plucked string only Molly could hear. She inhaled a shallow breath, passed her thumb over the panel of the tricorder again and lifted up towards Cecider's mottled face. A magnified image of Cecider's flesh appeared on the screen. There were still several patches where her skin was still lacking Filigum, the Andorian protein responsible for her blue pigment. Molly reached for a dosing gun and gave it a shake. At least there was something she could do to help.

      "I need to inject this into your neck, it is a . . . erm, well, like a steroid? It will help repair your burns."

      Cecider nodded and tilted her head to one side. Molly pressed the dosing gun to her neck and gave her a shot. Just as Molly pulled the instrument away, she had another fit of visions. Cecider swam in and out of view. Then, she was replaced by the visage of a stone-faced Khan striding down a corridor with Commander Jorr at his side. Her patient's voice pulled her out of the moment before she could see where they were going.

      "Wh-What? Sorry, what did you say?" Molly asked.

      Cecider blinked a few times. "Will I need any more injections?"

      "Oh, I think you might need another one in a day or so, but we will see how this goes, okay?"

      Cecider nodded and stood up from the bed. Molly fought back a vision of Khan again. 

      "Thank-you for giving me a chance to tend to your injuries-"

      The Andorian frowned. "What? Doctor, you saved our lives. None of us begrudge you our injuries. We are all very grateful for your help . . ."

      "But you are afraid of me."

      Cecider appeared to flush a deeper shade of blue. 

      Molly smiled sadly. "Hey, please, it is alright. I am afraid of me."

      They finished up and Cecider departed. Before the sick bay doors could shut behind her, Molly was inundated with scenes from the shuttle bay. Finally, she could understand what she was seeing. She slammed her dosing gun into the sterilizer, shuffled out of her lab coat and sprinted for the turbo lift down the corridor from her medical bay. 

      "Computer, main shuttle bay!"

       The turbo lift doors closed with a hiss. The lift didn't move, though.

      "Computer! Shuttle. Bay."

      "Dr. Hooper-"

      Molly huffed. "I will move this lift on my own."

      The computer did not offer a retort. Instead, the lift shifted and Molly felt its inertia hurtling her to her destination. In short order, she stomped into the shuttle bay to see Khan and Jorr in the cockpit of Jorr's craft. Khan's eyes flicked to her through the viewport and a wrinkle of irritation appeared between his brows. Molly rubbed her lips together as she felt her temperature rise.

      "Where do you think you are going?" she shouted at the craft.

      Khan stretched his neck behind the window into the shuttle. He said something to Jorr and they both put on their safety harnesses. Molly felt a great well of anger spring up inside. They were trying to leave without her! The sound of the engines powering up filled the bay. A voice resounded from above, it was Khan's timber patched over the system.

      "Go back to duty, Dr. Hooper, we will return later."

      Molly gritted her teeth and worked a kink out of her shoulders. The shuttle's engines grew louder and the craft levitated. Molly glowered at Khan. 

      "You aren't going anywhere," she muttered.

      She lifted her hand and closed her fist. Instantly, the engines died and the bay went silent. She held the shuttle in a hover for a few seconds, then lurched it forward at an angle so that she was practically standing nose to nose with Khan. The Captain's lips pulled taut and his eyes narrowed. Jorr appeared to sigh and hunched forward. He turned his gaze to his co-pilot and hiked a brow. Molly watched him mouth the words,  _"I told you this was not going to work."_ Khan's nose wrinkled. He didn't answer though, he just flung off his belts and pushed out of his seat. 

      Molly opened her palm and the shuttle drifted backwards before allowing it to come down gently. Just as it settled into place, the shuttle hatch popped open. In  a matter of heartbeats, Khan thundered out of the vehicle, crossed the floor and hovered over her like a storm cloud. A hot breath fanned through her hair which popped with static. 

       "This is ridiculous," he bit out as he stared down at her, "you are staying on board this ship and that is final."

       She heaved in a breath. "No, I am not. I do not belong here."

      Khan appeared to suppress a flinch. For a few seconds he glared down at her, his brows grew heavier. Then, he seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. His eyelid twitched.

      "You think belong on Jevek? A planet you have never set foot on?"

      Molly swallowed. "N-No."

      His nostrils flared. His next words were rushed.

     "Then why? Why do you want to leave m-, mm . . . ahem . . . leave _here_?"

      She did not have a good answer for him. In truth, Molly was desperately afraid to be on her own. However, she felt like she was trapped in a nightmare at times as they winged their way through space. She just wanted to step onto the surface of a planet, any planet, and feel the ground beneath her feet and a breeze through her hair. The red matter had made her someone or _something_ else that she didn't understand and she was scared of losing her humanity to its will. Even in that moment, with Khan hovering over her, she felt disconnected from him and everyone on board the Shrike. It was as if her loneliness had her falling backwards into a pit with the bright sky above receded like a closing aperture. 

       Molly took a moment to memorize every curve and line of Khan's unique features as if it was the last time she would ever see him. Something in his intense expression gave her this unhinged feeling of deja vu, though, and she began to feel insecure about her choice to leave. Even her red matter vibrated differently around him. 

       "I am coming with you," she whispered, "you do not have a choice in this."

       She expected fury to spark in his eyes but instead he appeared momentarily resigned. His lips parted as if to say something but then he swore and glanced away. In a flash she was privy to a swirl of indecision within his brain before it shifted like an iceberg breaking off a glacier. Too late she realized what that meant.

       "Ow!" Molly slapped a hand to her neck.

       Her vision swam as she felt the icy spread of something through her collar. Her vision blurred. When her knees buckled, a strong arm caught her against a solid frame.

        "Whut . . . di-id . . . y-you do?"

       Khan leaned down, his chin brushed past her cheek. "I . . . I did what I had to do to keep . . . _you_." 

       Darkness closed in at the edges of her fading sight and she was scooped into his arms. Her head lolled against his brawny chest.

       "I think I h-hate you, Khan Noonien Singh," she mumbled into his tunic.

       "Good," bitterness laced his tone, "you should hate me for what I have done . . . what I will do . . ."

       

           *   *   *

      Molly awoke swearing and flailing to a dark room her quarters on the Shrike. 

      "I hate you!"

      For several seconds she was quite groggy but bounced back from her slumber like the snap of an elastic when she recalled why she was there. She beat her fists against her mattress. 

      "Aaaarg!"

      Like a charged lightning bolt she arced from her bed and paced in circles. Khan had drugged her somehow and knocked her out. He must have beat a hasty retreat afterwards for she was still dressed in her uniform. She felt rage slam into her like a tsunami at his betrayal. It was such an intense feeling that it felt foreign and for a tick, she experienced a sort of dual perspective as if she was both in a rage and watching one. Her scalp prickled and next thing she knew, her hair fitzed and popped as it lifted from her shoulders. Out of the corner of her eyes, her floating locks glowed pink and orange.

      "Dr. Hooper," the Shrike's voice interrupted her tumultuous thoughts, "I sense an instability in your red matter infection."

      "Uh-huh, thank-you for your insight," Molly ground out in a voice that echoed as if it were several tones layered over tones, "tell me, Shrike, for all your programming, you aren't really bound by any of it are you? Not if you can choose to ignore it?"

       There was a brief silence before the ship responded.

       "Dr. Hooper, you are compromised . . . Starfleet convention dictates-"

       Molly's spine straightened like a rope pulled taut. "Bollocks!"

       "Dr-"

       "No, listen, Shrike. I get it, I do, but neither you nor Khan nor any being in existence is going to keep me a prisoner. I am leaving here, understood?"

       A vacuum ensued for a tick.

       "Understood, Dr. Hooper."

       "Now, how long has he been gone?"

       "Two hours. He landed on Jevek forty-three minutes ago."

       Molly closed her eyes and peered through a red haze. Rain was just beginning to fall on Khan dressed in a trench-like jacket and Commander Jorr in something similar as they navigated their way through the streets of a city comprised of bubble-like glass structures nestled between giant ferns. In a blink, she was there, standing in his path. Khan was in the midst of speaking to his second in command when he glanced forward and their eyes met. His steps faltered two yards from where she stood and he half-turned his head as if he were having a hallucination. His eyes slid warily to Jorr then again to her. The drizzle increased to a determined shower. His hair flattened on his head and water trickled down his face. He smoothed back his bedraggled fringe. Molly's focus fixed squarely on him, she barely registered the humanoids and other forms scurrying about to get out of the torrent. The rain didn't touch her, though. It was as if the drops themselves leapt away from her like pedestrians from a runaway car.

       "How did you get here?" he called warily, water flicked from his lips.

       Molly snapped her fingers and she was under his nose. "Like that."

       He teetered back. His face was stone but there was an uneasiness in his eyes. He gaze jerked over her face and took in the sight of her hair which still fluttered around her head like sea grass rolling in gentle waves.

       "Molly-"

       "Q!"

       A sing-song voice cut through Molly's consciousness. She frowned. Something in the tone caused her head to pivot towards the source. To her left a lean, dark haired man in a black suit loitered near one of the bubble-like structures eating an apple. Just like her, the rain did not seem to fall on him. His brows twitched up when they made eye contact.

      "Q," he lilted in an Irish accent, "come now, you must recognize who I am! It's me . . . Q!"

      She squinted at the man. Memories, distant ones from her past life, rumbled forward like tumbling rocks. She had flashes of an evening at her old flat in London and of theatrical voices warbling from her television as she snuggled next to someone. 

      _"Jim?"_ she thought, not knowing exactly why that name came to mind.      

      Molly's attention briefly reverted to Khan when he swore under his breath. 

      "Who is that?" Jorr muttered.

      "Trouble," Khan returned, "at least from what I have heard. I have never met one. He must think M-, I mean, Dr. Hooper . . ."

      Khan's voice trailed off as a thought appeared to niggle at him. He blinked and wagged his head as if in disagreement. His perplexed gaze scanned back and forth over her face.

      "Nooo," he drawled slowly, "no, you are human."

      The Irishman started chuckling and sauntered forward but every other step he disappeared and reappeared as if he were jumping through time. In milliseconds he was standing next to Jorr and examining him disdainfully. His nose scrunched and he peered at Khan with an equally bemused expression.

      "Nah, she's not human, mate," he took a bite of his apple then spit out bits of it as he spoke again, "she's Q but I don't expect your puny little mind to comprehend that."

       A blip in time later, the man's arm was around her shoulders and he squeezed it like they were long lost friends. He flipped the half-eaten apple out of his hand. Before it landed, there was a pop and the fruit disappeared.

      "You bored yet with all of this, Q?" he asked with a swan of his free arm. "I mean, not that time matters or anything but, geez, you've been here for how long now? Uhg! Ten seconds and I want to take my own life! Ha! Let's go, shall we?"

      Molly wiggled out of his grasp and stumbled back.

       "N-No! I don't even know you."

      The man threw up his hands dramatically. "Wha-at? Q! That hurts."

      He snapped his fingers. The rain stopped sheeting instantaneously and they were bathed in a blistering sunlight. 

      Their visitor winked at Khan. "She acts coy but she knows me very well . . . veeery well."

      Khan's eyes narrowed to a furious glower at the taunt. 

      The man's forehead bunched in a mimic of his fury. With a shrug, he turned, poked his lips out and waggled his brows at Molly once more.

      "Ooh, Q, he's mad. That's fun!"

      Molly heaved in a breath. "My name is not Q. It is Molly Hooper. I do not know you, sir."

      She must have gotten through to him because his amused mask finally fell away. He lifted his chin and started shaking his head. A step brought him ominously closer.

      "Ah, no, darling, you are not Molly Hooper," he hissed, "you are Q and you are coming home with me."


	13. Fevered Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, skip waaaaay to the end of this SMUTTY chapter if you don't like Molliarty because they DO get it on and it IS actually plot necessary S-M-U-T (probably the only I've ever done) :D
> 
> Heheheh, don't worry! This does not affect the Khanolly love story at all but it is kinda fun and funny how it all works out.
> 
> Oh, and then the end, welp, haha. The requisite cliffhanger, o' course!

     Once more, rain began to sheet all around Molly and Q (though her mind stubbornly referred to him as Jim) but they remained dry in kind of invisible bubble. Khan growled behind them but with a snap of Jim's fingers, the immediate area froze. Khan stood rigidly in place like a statue poised in a battle stance. Behind him, Jorr was an immobile sentry. She glanced between the two men and then peered around. Above them, a streak of the sun's rays had just split the clouds. The rain hovered as far as she could see like pearls suspended by unseen strings. It was a wild sight.

     "H-How are you doing this?" she whispered as she turned back to Jim.

     His lips curled in silent amusement. "The same way you transported yourself here. I desired something to happen and made it so. It's a Q thing."

     Molly touched her hand to her temple. Jim rocked back and forth on his feet. She remembered that about him, his constant fidgeting as if he couldn't contain himself.

    "This . . . this does not make any sense."

     Jim cocked his head sideways. "Really? Hmm . . . oh, and my name is not actually Jim, it is Q."

     She glowered at him. "Do not read my mind- actually, read it! Go right ahead. Then tell me what the hell is going on!"

     Jim's dark brown eyes deepened to black pits. He clasped his hand together then inverted them and stretched out his arms to crack his knuckles. The sound they made was a chorus of excessive pops like the cartoonish snapping of popcorn kernels. He shook out his hands, licked a thumb and tapped it against her forehead. Her nose wrinkled at the slippery wetness between her brows. 

     "Is that necessary?" she grumbled.

     He squinted for a few seconds as if thinking then gave her a double-eyed blink and shook his head. "Nope!"

     In the next instant, Molly's body was propelled through a vortex of pulsing lights. Her stomach plunged to her feet. She felt the overwhelming urge to vomit before settling into a kind of queasy suspension. 

     "Where are we going?" she asked.

     Jim floated up next to her with his arms folded behind his head and knees crossed. He swanned his hands out as if gesturing for her to take it all in.

     "We are travelling through time!" his voice echoed.

     Once again, she felt like she was being put on. His manner was too theatrical. His expression sardonic. She pressed her lips together momentarily with a thought.

     "Can't we just blink to wherever it is we are going?"

     Her companion's lips sputtered a sigh. He rolled his eyes.

     "You are no fun at all, you know?"

     An instant later, Molly's stomach lurched violently back into her abdomen. Suddenly, she stood in a dimly lit parlor staring at a couple seated on a sofa lit by the fluctuating blue glow of a television. Yet, it was not just any parlor, nor any random couple. She was back in her old home in London regarding _herself_ cuddling next to the man she'd known as Jim from IT. She held her breath as she tried to reconcile the scene before her eyes. A multitude of memories flooded back to her from her old life. Jim. James Moriarty. A dangerous man  . . . but for whom? Her memories were fuzzy and frayed. The more she tried to push into them, the more garbled they became.

     "I-I'm home."

     "Erm, sort of," Jim murmured over her shoulder, "we are here but not really here, kind of like ghosts. I just wanted to watch the goings on."

     "Watch what-?" her words died on her lips.

     Molly focused in on the scene just as the other version of herself glanced shyly at the Jim sitting next to her on the sofa. The second Jim looked at his seatmate, his eyes flicked over her face. Warmth infused Molly's cheeks. She knew exactly what was going to happen because she _remembered_ it. The seemingly younger, more handsome Jim squeezed his counterpart's hand. Their fingers intertwined. The temperature in the room ratcheted up a few degrees. From her vantage, Molly noticed something she hadn't when she had personally experienced that particular moment - a twitch of Jim's features. He appeared temporarily conflicted which was followed by a fleeting expression of wonderment. Whatever misgivings he suffered though, he let go of them in a release of breath as he leaned in to kiss Sofa Molly.

     She swallowed as she watched the pair's lips come together eagerly. Deep in her gut, she felt a twinge of excitement at the soft mewl her former self made. She remembered their embrace very well; the way his lips pulled hungrily at hers and the insistence of his tongue. It had been sexier than she had expected because she had never had anyone feel so needy for her before. Her breath caught as Sofa Molly clutched onto Jim's shirt. She could almost feel the pliant cotton blend in her hand. The room echoed with the sounds of their moist lips smacking and the huff of air through nostrils. When Sofa Jim groaned, Molly's pulse jumped in her neck. Then, their physicality intensified before her very eyes. Sofa Molly yanked at her partner's white tee while he hauled her onto his lap. Hands cupped her backside over her skirt. A strange curse fell from his lips in a language she had never heard. Why hadn't she noticed it before? 

     "We shouldn't," he rasped, shaking his dark head, "we shouldn't . . ."

     "Too fast?" the randy Molly returned.

     "No," he sputtered, "not that. Errrrg, ha-ah, to hell with it!"

     Jim's hands rubbed up and down her arse under her skirt. Her fingers tousled his longish, black hair atop his head. Soon the pair was panting from their activities. When Sofa Molly stepped back, pulled her shirt over her head and shimmied out of her skirt and panties, Molly slapped a hand to her mouth to suppress a squeak. Dark eyes with their pupils blown, stared at her former self intently from the sofa as if she were the most delectable thing he'd ever seen. Molly blinked wide-eyed upon seeing her own naked backside. Never had she ever looked in the mirror and thought she was sexy. She almost laughed at the irony of experiencing excitement from watching herself. To her right, Q, Jim, or whomever he was, sighed.

     "Mm, yes, this is my favorite part too."

    It took a moment for her to remember she was not alone in her voyeurism. She gasped and spun sideways as her face flamed.

    "Oh, my God! D-Don't look at me, I mean, them!" she waved a hand in his face.

    He stepped back with his hands up and laughed. "Ha, ha, what?!"

   His expression was incredulous. His mouth hung open as he pointed at himself then to where his twin was arched off the sofa and wriggling out of his pants and then back at himself. He wagged his head and gestured emphatically at the couple. Molly grimaced and shook her head as fast as she could.

    "That's me!" Jim sputtered and hooted a laugh. "That is me and in about two seconds, that is me inside  _you_. I hate to break it to you, darlin', but I don't forget things, ever."

   Back on the couch, someone moaned. Molly covered her mouth with her hands and spun back to see her earlier self straddling a very aroused Jim. Then, in a half-heart beat, she suddenly _became that Molly_. She found herself over top of Jim's lean, toned body on the sofa. Her every sense was inundated with new information akin to being thrown into a lake. Hands cupped her breasts, the deepest brown eyes bored into hers and there existed a pressure between her legs. A breath expunged harshly from her lungs as she sank down on a rigid cock. Her belly fluttered at the visceral invasion. She squeezed on his shaft as he pushed inside. His penetration began to sooth a pre-existing empty ache that was driving her out of her mind.

    "Aaarg, oh, god, this is good," he muttered, his breaths hot on her face, "fu-uck."

    Her hands clutched his shoulders. Every thought fled as her backside came to rest on his thighs and his cock was buried inside her sex. Blood pounded through her veins, she struggled to breath properly. Jim. _Jim_. He was just a bit of fun. She liked him but she knew a long term relationship wasn't in the cards for them. Fun. Just fun. She didn't normally get intimate with someone so quickly but it had been awhile. Or had it? She was so confused. Then, his hips shifted he thrust up inside her, chasing away what dregs of breath were left in her lungs.

    "Uuuuuh," she sucked in air and dropped her lips to his.

    Hands gripped her hips as she began to rock on him. His lips sought hers eagerly and his tongue stole inside. She wrapped her arms around his neck and devoted herself to their rhythm. Their hips ground together, his cock kept surging, seeking her summit. Over and over their torsos met, her mound greedily rubbed against the flesh of his lower belly. She could feel the tickle of hair on her stomach and chest. Her nipples felt as if they were blazing with the most delicious friction and she was wet, _so_ wet. When she looked down, she could see a sheen of moisture where their bodies came together. 

     "Molly," he groaned, "um, fuck, I never knew this could be so good."

    "Yes," she rasped, "yeeeessss."

    Jim's hands flattened on her back. He held her tightly against him and continued his vigorous possession. She could feel a change in him then, a vibration that shook her body. The harmonics of it sent her over the edge. With a final hard stroke into her quivering sex, she shattered. Not too long after spasms made her quake all over, Jim was cumming with a heady moan. She felt him flex and his heat jet into her body. There was another feeling that came next, a tingle somewhere deep and dark. Instead of enjoying the reverberations of her orgasm though, there was a pull at her being. 

     "Unh- wh-what?" she cried as she was jerked out of the experience.

     Molly found herself back across the room still feeling shook but no longer in an embrace with Jim. She stared wide-eyed at the specter of her other self collapsed on top of him while he rubbed her back. Next to where she wobbled on her feet, she heard a low laugh.

     "Sorry, darlin'," came Q-Jim's lilt, "I can't have you getting all sweet on me again or anything."

     Molly flushed and glanced at him. Khan popped into her head and she felt a wash of guilt. She heaved in a few breaths and exhaled shakily. As hot as re-experiencing sex with Jim was, she had no feelings for the man he was or the being who grinned at her then, whatever he purported to be. Her heart felt as if it were squashed in her chest for having gone through such an emotional whiplash. She didn't care for this man, she couldn't. Her thoughts were with Khan and she experienced a kind of anxiety like she had cheated on him somehow.

     "I wasn't sweet on you then and I'm not now," she spat. "Wh-Why did you show me this?"

    Then a thought struck her. 

     "Oh, my God!" she gasped as she clutched at her stomach. "That's how it happened. That's why I'm like this."

    He dipped his head and nodded it slowly. He scratched his scalp through his inky locks and made a face.

    "Erm, yeah, yes. Not something I planned but this human form," he swiped down at his body, "it . . . it is hard to resist its compulsion. It is so crude and primitive and has these _needs._  Anyway, when we did what we did . . . welp, I transferred some of myself to you."

    "The red matter," she whispered.

    "Yeah, a bit not good. Didn't know that could happen but here you are, a brand new Q and I made you. Sooo, yup, I'm in a spot of trouble with the continuum now. They are _pissed_ for lack of a better word. That is why I have come for you- oop! Heh heh heh, _come for you_. That's funny."

    Molly's head spun. She looked up one last time at the couple on the sofa and felt cold. She turned, towards her tormentor. Her whole form shook. 

    "I don't want to be like you," she cried as she choked back a sob.

     She thought she might pass out then, she experienced shortness of breath. In an instant she returned to Jevek. Khan stood where they had left him, still trapped in a kind of suspended animation. She hurried through the rain, swatting aside hanging droplets like flies, and stopped just short of him. She reached out hesitantly and brushed away a drip clinging to his lip. Her heart continued to wheeze like a damaged piece of fruit losing its pulp. It thudded painfully in her chest. She felt like she was trying to pass an embolism through her veins. 

     "You think you are better off with him?" Jim laughed at her back.

     "Stop it," she whispered, "just stop it."

    "Ah, no, can't do that, Q. You're part of the continuum. We protect our own."

    "Protect me?" she hissed back at him, staving off tears. "You stole my life from me."

    He slouched and trudged forward in an exaggerated display before wagging his hands at the sky. "It was a misadventure! Geez! It's not like I meant to do it."

    Molly felt a tear slip down her cheek. She didn't know what to do. For all the power she felt running through her body, she did not gain any freedom in it. She didn't need Jim to explain the Q to her, she could feel its infinite reach like a road that went nowhere because it looped back on itself an immeasurable amount of times. The reality of Q was everything and nothing; limitless but also purposeless. This is why Jim had ventured away from the continuum and why he had taken a human form and come to Earth. There existed beings that attracted him there, like the glow from lightning bugs. He had wanted to experience something other than the emptiness of the Q. He had been especially drawn to someone in her orb who was also connected to Khan in some way. Again, the images shredded apart as she sought to pin them down. It was infuriating to continue suffering such a gap in knowledge.

     "I'm not fully Q yet, am I?" she murmured as she turned to Jim.

     She couldn't be, not if her memories were limited.

     The Irishman's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "No. You are not yet completely transformed. You're more like a lower-case q, heh heh. You need to join the continuum to finalize the process. The jumping you did, that was what alerted me to your presence here."

     Molly's nose wrinkled. "So, what? Did I bring myself to the future or something after you infected me?"

     He made a face and wagged his head quickly. "I am not touching that one. Some things are better left to self-discovery."

      She huffed and hiked a brow but he shrugged and mouthed, _"no way."_

      "Fine . . . the continuum, though? You cannot actually force me to go there."

     Jim groaned. "One cannot force a Q to do anything. I would hope you see reason."

      _Reason._

     That was not what came to mind when her gaze was irresistibly drawn back to Khan and his unique beauty. His glassy eyes shone bright blue in this light. He looked both fierce and fragile. Then she heard and felt the crushing weight of Jim's next utterance.

     "I don't know why you bother with him, doll. You know he intends to kill you, right?"


	14. Painful Echoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This will make total sense or be confusing af. Sowwy.

     Molly watched herself putter around her old lab. She sighed. 

     "Oh, lord, I used to like that outfit," she muttered as she gazed at herself dressed in overly large khakis and a floral blouse.

     Truth be told, she much preferred her Starfleet uniform and shorter red hair. This style held no more appeal. She had always thought the patterns and colours she wore made her a cute, quirky stand-out but she looked smaller, more fragile than she remembered. She almost got lost in the layers.

     Of course, the Molly under observation didn't react to her utterance. She couldn't. After all, none of what Q-Molly observed was taking place in the traditional sense; it was a replay of a particular point in time similar to the moments when Jim had shown her their lovemaking. Q-Molly shook her head. She kept jumping into snippets from her life blindly like she was flipping the pages of a historical text. She had hoped to find answers for when and why her life had suddenly changed so she could figure out her place in the universe. All she had determined thus far, however, was that her former self had been very much alone most of the time. Molly felt oddly disconnected from this past, as if it had happened to someone else. She wasn't even sure she would be able to step comfortably back into it if given the chance. She swallowed and spun away towards the lab entrance. Almost at the same moment, the door swung open. The shock of seeing a familiar face seized her airways. She stumbled back and clutched her chest as the specter approached. Tall, dark, imposing-

     "Khan!" she gasped.

     The phantom man dressed in a long, tailored coat was oblivious to her presence. He continued forward as her heart slammed in her chest. She threw her hands up and shrieked but the figure ghosted through her then he went straight towards the other Molly.

      "Oh, hello, Sherlock," Molly from the past said cheerfully at her back.

      Q-Molly spun shakily with her mouth agape.  _Sherlock? Sherlock?_ Pain lanced through her skull like brain freeze. She gaped at the familiar man. He was the spitting image of Khan but . . . he was not Khan. This fellow was dressed in a striking, long Belstaff over top a fine grey blazer, matched trousers and a cobalt blue, button-up shirt. His hair was thick and curly in a longish mass atop his head.  _Sherlock?_ She hissed as a lobe in her brain throbbed like it had ruptured. She knew him . . . she knew him. Why didn't she remember him? Then, suddenly a million images swirled through her mind and she was hurtled drunkenly through time to a scene of devastation. 

      "Sherlock!" a woman screamed.

      No, not just any woman, Molly realized, the person who screamed was  _herself_.

      "Sherlock! Sherlock! No!"

      In an instant, Molly's memories returned with a vengeance. The man she had just seen, Sherlock . . .  _her_  Sherlock, lay sprawled out on the floor of 221B Baker Street's kitchen. His head, a mass of damp, tangled curls with a stark-white, almost blue pallor of flesh, was cradled in her former self's hands atop her lap. 

      "Oh, Sh-Sherlock, oh god, oh no-o-o . . ."

      Q-Molly went numb. The pain of that moment returned like a fist to the gut. She remembered discovering the man she had loved and loved for years lifeless in his flat from an apparent overdose. It had been the single most earth-shattering, painful thing she had ever experienced. Her soul had fractured and burst like an explosive detonated somewhere deep inside.

      Molly rubbed her chest. 

      That was exactly what  _had_  happened, she contemplated with a sick roll to her stomach. The red matter must have bubbled to life to answer her desperate prayers to take the pain away. Molly watched herself blink out of existence. The newspaper report of her disappearance had been wrong. She hadn't gone missing during a walk home from Bart's, she hadn't been kidnapped by aliens as she had imagined at all. She grimaced down at Sherlock miserably; a lonely vessel of death stretched out in his rumbled tan dressing gown. She fell to her knees and sobbed in the very place her former self had occupied.

       "Oh, oh, god, I am so sorry," she cried, "I am so sorry."

       Molly reached out to touch his pale face but her hand went through his forehead. Her chest wracked with a fresh burst of sobs. She couldn't even touch him! 

       "Mmmm . . ."

      He moved.

      "Sherlock?" she whispered.

       "Mmmm . . . "

       The large man heaved over onto his side. She hastily wiped her tears away. He hadn't died! A flare of elation gave way to a sickening lurch. Her guts plunged out from beneath her again. A different misery swamped her as she reconciled the whiplash of new information. He hadn't died but she had flung herself away from him. She had jumped through time into the future and left him behind.

       "It's true what they say, isn't it?" came a sardonic voice at her rear. "You can't go back!"

       Molly sucked in a sharp breath and swiveled her head to glower at Jim. Her eyes felt raw; her cheeks were wet from her tears.

       "I could come here if I wanted to," she whispered, "I could step right back into this life-"

       Jim wiggled his fingers and the moment ground to a halt. He skipped forward and crouched next to Molly. His lips turned down as he gazed at Sherlock.

       "Could you?"

       Molly felt a quiver in her belly. Her tongue grew thick and heavy in her mouth. Jim smirked sadly as if he could read her thoughts. His lips twitched.

       "I came back a thousand times, a hundred-thousand times, I don't know," he murmured, "but they're never the same, you know?"

      His nose wrinkled. His lips pulled down.

      "The truth is, every moment of time is unique. They don't repeat. Something changes. Well, that something is you, to put a point on it. You could loop back here, certainly, but it's like putting on an ill-fitting pair of drawers. You would never be comfortable again."  

      Fresh tears stung her eyes. She balled her hands into fists. 

     "My God, I-I don't belong anywhere," she shook her head, "anywhere."

      Jim looked sideways at Molly. "You belong with me. You belong in the Q."

     She glanced at him with a what she felt was her lip curled and her brows twisted. He laughed and held up his hands.

     "Alright, alright. Well, yeah, maybe that's a load of tripe but hey, if you ever come to the Q, will you tell them I tried?"

     Molly sniffled and glanced down to Sherlock with lips weighted at the corners. Her heart squeezed in her chest. She had loved him with her entire being but that love, like herself, had changed. Not only that, it had been pushed off to the side and someone else had supplanted her beloved consulting detective; someone so like him but so different. Why had all this happened, she lamented? Why her? 

      Still more unanswered questions niggled at her the longer she regarded the prone detective. Why were Sherlock and Khan nearly identical in every way, shape and form? It was uncanny.

      "Khan was genetically engineered," she mumbled as she recalled what the captain had told her

      Jim nodded. "Yup!"

      "F-From Sherlock," she glanced down at her former obsession, "of course, they must have used his DNA. They used him to make Khan. Why?"

     "Ah, erm, well . . . the people who-" he swirled his hand around as if searching for the words, "- _engineered_  Khan collected countless unique human specimens like Sherlock. They were obsessed with creating the perfect soldiers."

     "That's sick," Molly spit.

      Jim sighed. "Khan isn't him though, you know. He is the perfection of Holmes; more cunning . . . more ruthless."

      Molly pressed her lips together. She stared down at Sherlock. His face burned into her psyche and suddenly, she was having trouble envisioning Khan. Their pale faces merged in her mind. She stumbled back when the scene seemed to bleed and the visuals ran together. She closed her eyes and shook her head to clear the unsettling disassociation,  When she reopened them, she stood in front of Khan in the same frozen instant she had left. How much time had passed, she wondered? It felt like lifetimes but she knew it was just a blink of an eye.

        _"I don't know why you bother with him, doll. You know he intends to kill you, right?"_ Jim's voice repeated mockingly in her mind.

      Her heart began to thud painfully in her chest as she studied Khan. She couldn't get the image of Sherlock out of her brain. His visage kept pulsing and changing before her eyes. One second he was Khan, the next Sherlock. 

      "Doll-"

      Molly wheezed a cry and glanced to Moriarty standing next to her in existence's longest moment. "Oh, god, leave me be, will you?"

       "But, you understand why you cannot be together-"

       Molly wiped away tears. "I understand what I am."

       She looked at Khan again.

       "Maybe I should just give him what he wants."

       Jim grimaced. "Ah, babe, that will end you."

       She swallowed and nodded. "Yes, but I am no more alive than Sherlock. I'm a specter haunting a future I have no business to be in. I can help this man find peace at least. I . . . I couldn't help Sherlock but maybe I can help him."

       "Uhg, but why? Why would you do that?"

       Molly wiped away a tear. "Because I love him."


End file.
